Shiver : 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror

Chapter One

Jerry Finney blinked at the zombie blocking the sidewalk in front of him. He did not have time for this today.

He was running on empty as it was, having spent the last three days tracking down a thirteen-year-old runaway. He’d delivered the girl to her grateful parents around two that morning and grabbed a few hours of sleep before Mickey, his mutt, had nudged him awake, ready for their morning run.

A dark-haired dominatrix walked up to the zombie and handed it a carryout cup of coffee and a donut. The couple smiled and waved at Finn then moved down the sidewalk.

He hated Halloween.

He slugged back the last of own lukewarm coffee as he walked into the small strip mall that housed his private detective agency, Finney Investigations. As he absently perused the newspaper, the headline of a jewelry store heist caught his eye, and he prepared himself for the rash of calls he’d get today from concerned businesses looking for extra security details.

More business was always welcome. The sleepy, small town of Pleasant Valley didn’t have a huge ration of crime, but he did all right. Caught up in the chase to find the runaway girl, he’d missed an appointment with a new client the night before and needed to call and make amends. Maybe he’d offer to take the guy out to lunch. His empty stomach rumbled at the thought of a greasy cheeseburger and fries.

A flash of color caught his eye, and he sighed at the dark-haired woman standing in front of Finney Investigations. Just looking at her, he knew she brought trouble. Another thing he didn’t need today. Most days he’d be happy to start his morning with a woman at his door, but this one wore a flowing purple robe and a bright-colored scarf tied around her long hair. All she was missing was the pointed hat with a spider dangling from the edge.

Today was Halloween, but unfortunately she wasn’t in costume.

This was how she dressed every day. The color of her robe changed, but her style didn’t. She called herself Madame Zia, and she wasn’t a client; she was his neighbor and a certifiable kook.

Her office sat down the hall from his, her door declaring her a renowned psychic who offered to read palms and tarot cards. She claimed to offer enlightenment, but his experience with psychics taught him that the only thing they “lightened” was the wallet of anyone gullible enough to want their services.

They’d been office neighbors for close to a year now, but he didn’t think they’d ever spoken more than a few words as they’d passed in the hall. So why was she standing at his door, wringing her hands and looking like a 17th-century damsel in distress? Maybe someone had stolen her crystal ball.

“Can I help you with something?” He nodded at her outfit. “Aren’t you running late for Potions class at Hogwarts?”

She raised an eyebrow, revealing the deep green of her eyes. He’d never stood this close to her before, and damned if she wasn’t kind of pretty. “I’ve already taken Potions and mastered Magic 101.” She let out an annoyed sigh. “Not very original, Mr. Finney.”

Touché. At least she had a sense of humor. He nodded. “Call me Finn.”

“We seem to have a problem, Finn.” She pointed to the door of his office, which stood slightly ajar, the wooden molding splintered.

“Son of a bitch.” He moved to stand between her and the door, and tilted his head to peer through the open crack. “Did you call the cops?”

“No, I just got here. My door looks the same. I was getting ready to call the police when I noticed your office had been broken into as well, and then you walked in.”

He dropped the paper and the empty coffee cup and pushed her protectively behind him. “Stay here.” Instinct took over, and he reached for the gun strapped into the harness across his shoulder. Holding it in front of him, he nudged the door open with his foot and cautiously stepped inside.

His one-room office had been ransacked. Papers and files spilled off the desk and onto the floor. The painting on his wall now hung upside down. It looked as if a strong wind had swept the room.

The remains of a fast-food lunch were strewn around the overturned wastebasket, and a pool of soda soaked into the rug. His file cabinet drawers stood open and had obviously been searched.

“What the hell?” Plaster dust littered the floor, and he peered up to see one of his office chairs hanging upside down, one leg firmly embedded in the ceiling. “How did that get up there? Somebody must have been on drugs to do that.” He glanced around the room. “Whoever did this is gone now. It’s too messy to tell for sure, but I don’t see anything missing.”

He crossed to the big oak desk and tried the drawers. “My desk is still locked, and that’s where I keep anything of value.”

Hearing no response, he looked up only to realize he spoke to an empty room. Madame Zia had vanished.

Zia hurried down the hall to her office. Fear gripped her throat. She recognized the type of destruction in the private eye’s office. The presence of evil oozed from the walls, and she feared the same manifestation would be waiting for her.

She probably should have waited for Finn; he had the gun, after all. But no gun was going to help in this instance.

Besides, he acted like such a jerk. He didn’t even know her, and yet the first time they’d actually spoken, he’d mocked her clothes and made a joke at her expense. Who did he think he was?

The private eye had always been aloof, barely acknowledging her as they’d passed in the hall. She’d thought being next door to a private investigator might be exciting, but the times she’d walked by his office window and seen him inside, he’d always had his head bent over the computer, a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose.

It seemed to her that the detective business was fairly boring, and so was the detective.

Although she had to admit a thrill had shot down her spine when he’d pushed her behind him and pulled out his gun. Standing so close to him, his strength had been evident by the way his muscles bulged as he drew his gun. And he smelled amazing.

She’d wanted to close her eyes and inhale his aftershave, the musky scent doing funny things to her insides. A small scar lay under his ear, and she’d been tempted to run her finger down the white line and then along his neck.

The boring, sandy-haired detective was younger than she’d first assumed, probably in his early thirties. Close to the same age, she wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of reading glasses. The ones he wore made him look older and hid a fairly handsome face.

She’d always been a little intrigued by him, but his stodgy demeanor and standoffish attitude had made attempts at getting to know him almost impossible.

Now she knew he hadn’t been worth the effort. Not only did he seem boring, but he acted stuck-up as well. Then what had her fantasizing about running her fingers along the scar on his neck and still smelling his scent?

His reaction to the office break-in had been the most excitement she’d seen in him since they’d met. But this was not the kind of excitement she needed in her life.

Her office contained more than just a workspace. It was her sanctuary. The place where she offered help to the needy and healing to the broken.

Her business meant everything to her. She’d worked hard to create a soothing environment filled with positive energy. It was decorated in jewel tones with a mystical motif, and the comfy furniture and a trickling fountain made her clients feel at ease. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with old spell books, candles, and baskets and jars holding crystals and herbs.

She eased open the door and gasped at the broken glass and destruction of the room. It looked like a tornado had spun through the room. She took in the bright red sprays of blood spattered across the gold-painted walls and let loose a scream of terror.

Finn rushed down the hall. The woman really was crazy. Still, he didn’t want her to get hurt. Who knew if the guy who did this was still around?

A blood-curdling scream filled the air. He reached for his gun and sprinted for the psychic’s door.

Zia crashed into him, throwing her arms around his waist. Her warm body trembled in his arms. “There’s blood. So much blood. Someone was murdered in my office.”

He gave her a reassuring squeeze then gently pushed her behind him as he cautiously approached her door. “Stay behind me. I’ll check it out.”

He’d seen his share of blood in his years as a cop, but his concern lay more in the worry that the perpetrator was still in there.

A single glance inside showed the chaos of the destroyed room. Glass had been shattered and books and trinkets lay scattered around the floor. But what he didn’t see was blood. Not a trace.

Chapter Two

Confused, Finn gently pulled the trembling woman into the room. “I don’t see anything. Show me where you saw the blood.”

Zia shook her head, a baffled expression on her face. “It’s gone now.”

“What do you mean it’s gone?” Now he really was starting to question this woman’s sanity. The room was a mess, but he didn’t see anything to suggest a murder. “Blood doesn’t just disappear.”

Zia hesitantly stepped further into the room and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, as if inhaling the atmosphere of the room. “Something terrible happened here. I can feel it. It feels like pure evil, and the color red is very strong.”

Oh brother. What a nut job. “Look, lady, I don’t know what kind of hocus-pocus you get up to in here, but I deal in facts. And the fact is, I don’t see any blood. I don’t feel anything evil, either. This was most likely a simple robbery, since both of our offices got hit. Somebody looking for some easy cash.”

“Oh, really? I thought you were a private investigator. You’re obviously not a very good one.”

He bristled at the insult. “What are you talking about? You don’t even know me or how I operate.”

“Whose fault is that?” she mumbled as she bent to pick up a broken plant that had spilled dirt onto her royal purple rug. She stood, the remains of a shattered pot in her hand. “You’re ignoring the clues. Signs that are right in front of you. The upside-down painting, the chair in the ceiling, the books all over the floor. If you opened your mind for one minute, you would see what’s really happening.”

Distracted by the stretch of bare-skinned leg that she exposed when she bent to retrieve the plant, he tried to refocus on what she’d said. Geez, what had gotten into him? Since when had he been attracted to great ankles? Or ever even noticed ankles? But hers were slim and delicate and had a thin silver chain looped around one.

Why was he letting a little glimpse of skin get to him? He cleared his throat. “I don’t think an upside-down painting is exactly what you’d call a clue. What is it you think I’m missing? If you have it all figured out, why don’t you tell me just what’s going on here, Madame Zia?”

“It’s obvious. Something evil happened here last night. My guess, from the amount of blood splattered around the room, would be a murder. And whoever was murdered is trying to send us a sign.”

What blood? How did she go from scattered files and spilled trash to a murder? “First of all, I don’t see any blood. And I don’t see any signs, except maybe one above your head that’s flashing ‘cuckoo.’”

She rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip. “Really mature, Mr. Finney. The signs are all around us. This was obviously the work of a spirit trying to send us a message.”

Cuckoo? Change that to cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Was she nuts?

She moved to stand behind a long counter, an antique cash register on one end with a grouping of old glass jars next to it. One of the jars had been toppled over, and multicolored velvet bags had spilled across the counter.

She had righted the jar and begun scooping the bags back into it when a spooky sound filled the room. A low groan issued from the cabinet above her head, and her hand stopped in midair, a red velvet bag clutched in her palm.

Another groan, this one an eerie moan followed by a thumping. A shiver ran up Finn’s back, and he automatically held up his weapon. “Get back.”

Before he could stop her, she turned and opened the cabinet door. A streak of black flew out, and she screamed as it skidded across the counter and leapt to the floor.

Zia scooped a black cat into her arms and nuzzled the frightened animal against her. “Poor baby. It’s all right, Sam. Are you hurt?” She held the cat out, as if examining it for injuries.

A black cat? Seriously? “You really might be a witch,” he mumbled.

She whipped her head up, narrowing her eyes. “Did you just call me a bitch?”

“No, no. I said a witch.” He waited for the onslaught of criticism, but was instead rewarded with a grin.

“Oh, well in that case, thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Yes, thank you for noticing. I am a witch. But not the kind you’re thinking. Not the hunched over, wart-covered crone casting evil curses, with a crow, and a bubbling black cauldron.” She shrugged, then grinned. A crooked grin filled with mischief and a naughty twinkle sparkled in her green eyes. “Well, wait, I guess I do have a black cauldron, but it’s a small one. And I don’t have any warts.”

“Is that why you wear that silly robe? Or are you going to sing in the church choir later?”

She looked down at the robe. “This is mostly for my customers. They expect me to dress the part.” She set the cat on the floor. “So, no, I’m not headed to Hogwarts or choir practice. But for the record, I do have a lovely singing voice.”

He watched her bend. The satiny robe displayed a hint of curves, and he imagined the feel of the satin in his hands. What was wrong with him? Maybe she’d cast a spell on him. A horn-dog spell. Why was he suddenly so intrigued by her robe and envisioning what else she had on under it? Or if she had anything on under it? She said she was a witch. Did she drop the robe to dance naked in the moonlight?

He cleared his throat and shook his head to clear the image of Zia naked in the moonlight. Or naked anywhere. “I don’t believe in all that nonsense. My job involves science and evidence. Not talking to ghosts and magic spells. In my job, I actually help people.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “So do I, Finn. That is the purpose of everything in this room. The herbs, the lotions, the crystals. It’s all to help people. I am a white witch, so I spend my energy on healing and helping my clients find peace.” She lifted a corner of the purple robe. “Even this outfit is a way to help my clients. It makes them feel at ease. Like they’re with a professional.”

Oh no. Don’t start thinking about that robe again. “How does your outfit and some fancy rocks help people?”

She shook her head and lowered her voice, as if speaking to a child. “There is a reason behind everything I do. To soothe. To protect. To heal. From reading tarot cards to simply listening is my way of giving comfort and aid. What I do helps my clients find peace or understanding. Do the services you provide offer your clients that?”

“Of course they do. Suspicions can lead to a lot of nasty outcomes, but knowledge is power. Having proof can offer my clients peace too. I don’t just deal with jealous spouses. My firm helps solve crimes, track down killers, and find missing or kidnapped kids. But we deal in evidence and substantiation of proof.”

She stepped closer and looked up at Finn, her voice now combative. “Of course you track down leads, but haven’t you ever heard of intuition or a cop having a gut feeling? Don’t put down what you know nothing about. Plenty of psychics have been used to help solve crimes or aid in police investigations.”

He tried not to look at the way her chest heaved as she argued her case. The zipper of her robe was open just enough to expose the pale crescent of the tops of her breasts as she leaned forward. His mind muddled at the lacy black fabric just visible under the robe, and he couldn’t think of a single argument to oppose what she’d just said. What had she just said?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, saving him from having to form a response.

The voice of his business partner, Jake Landon, sounded in his ear. “Hey, Finn. What’s on tap for today?”

“A little B&E, and I’m afraid we’re the ones who’ve been broken and entered.” Finn absently rubbed his whiskered chin as he spoke, and hoped he could find his spare razor in the mess of his office. “Somebody broke into our office last night and trashed the place.”

“You’re kidding. Have you called the cops?”

“Not yet. I just got here. They hit the office next door to ours as well. The one belonging to Madame Zia. I’m with her now.”

“The hot psychic?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Heat warmed his cheeks, and he snuck a glance at Zia to see if she’d heard the comment. Ignoring him, she’d turned back to the task of cleaning. “She thinks something evil happened here. She claims she can ‘feel’ it. In fact, she’s arguing that it was a spirit or a ghost that trashed our offices.”

“A ghost?”

He heard Jake chuckle, and muffled voices in the background. “Who are you with?”

“I’m over at Sunny’s house. Edna brought by her famous cinnamon rolls, and we’re drinking coffee and having second breakfast.”

Finn pictured Sunny, the woman in Jake’s life, with her round curves and curly blonde hair, and imagined just what Jake’d had for his first breakfast. Edna was Sunny’s eighty-something-year-old neighbor who thought her substantial viewing of television detective shows gave her the ability to solve actual crimes. “Don’t tell Sunny’s kooky neighbor about this. She’s probably got Ghostbusters on speed dial.”

Jake laughed. “Too late. Give us ten minutes. We’re headed over to the office now. All of us.”

“Great.” Finn looked over at Zia as he disconnected and shoved the phone back in his pocket. “I guess one more kook around here won’t hurt anything,” he mumbled. “She’ll probably fit right in.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jake arrived with Sunny and Edna in tow. Finn had called the police to report the break-ins, and was waiting for them to show.

He grasped Jake’s hand. “You didn’t have to come down, man. I could have handled this.”

Jake shrugged. “Are you kidding? I had to check this out. It’s not every day a spirit breaks in to your office.”

Sunny gave Finn a warm hug. Jake was a lucky man. That woman was a real catch. Always smiling, funny, and a great tush.

She offered him a mischievous smile. “We didn’t want to miss out on seeing the ghost. We would have been here sooner, except Edna had to get her Ghosthunters kit.” She gestured to her neighbor.

Edna had already stepped into Finn’s office, holding what looked like a checkout clerk’s scanner in front of her. She wore jeans, floral Wellingtons (Finn hoped that was because she had been gardening and not because she was afraid she might step in ghost droppings), and a black t-shirt with the words “DUDE! RUN!” emblazoned across the front. A canvas messenger bag was slung across her bony shoulders, and wires and cords protruded from either side.

“Seriously, Edna? What in the world is that?” Finn pointed to the gadget in Edna’s hand.

“This is an EMF meter. I got a voice recorder too in case we hear the spirit. They were a combo pack. I got ’em both for fifty dollars on eBay.”

“Well, I’m sure that was money well spent. What’s it supposed to do?”

Edna waved it slowly around the room, as if it was a metal detector and she was looking for lost coins. “It measures the electromagnetic fields in the room. It detects alternate current patterns and alerts us to the presence of spirits.”

Finn shook his head at Jake. “I think I’m gonna need some spirits. Of the liquid variety. Can it detect if there’s a spirit of scotch in the room?”

Edna waved the little meter near the chair hanging from the ceiling, and it went berserk, beeping and flashing lights like she’d just won the jackpot on a ghostly slot machine. Her eyes went wide, and she fumbled in her bag for the voice recorder. “Do you see that?” she called out, her voice taking on a breathy singsong quality. “Hello? Are you here? Can we help you?”

Sunny moved closer to Jake, her eyes as wide as Edna’s. “Is there really a ghost in here?” she whispered.

Finn rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Somebody’s cell phone probably rang and set that crazy doohickey off.”

“If there’s something crazy going on, I knew it would have to involve Edna,” a deep voice spoke from the doorway of the office, and the group turned to see Officer McCarthy of the Pleasant Valley Police Department standing there. “I got a call about a break-in.”

“Oh hi, Mac.” Edna waved sweetly, having met the officer several other times in her attempts at crime solving.

He nodded. “Hello, Edna. How’s your granddaughter?”

Edna laughed out loud. “Very smooth, Mac. Way to slip that right in there.” She turned to Finn. “Mac met my granddaughter, Zoey, this summer when she came here to dodge some reporters. She’s a key witness in a case, and he helped save her life. And he won’t admit it, but he’s also got a thing for her.” She pointed at the policemen. “I know she likes you too, so why don’t you just call her, you big lunkhead?”

The police officer ignored the rib and pulled a notepad from his pocket. He turned to Finn. “Why don’t you tell me what happened here? Did I hear something about a ghost?”

Chapter Three

Zia set the table upright and straightened the velvet cloth that sat atop it. She’d managed to put the majority of the room back together, and had lit a fat white candle for peace and protection. A bowl of sage burned on the table to cleanse the room of negative spiritual energy.

She’d rescheduled her clients for the day and taken off the purple robe. Underneath she wore a stretchy black top with lace trim and a red pencil skirt.

Picking up her EMF reader, she slowly scanned the room for any signs of disturbance or spectral beings.

A knock sounded on her office door and a parade of people entered the room, led by Finney. She was pleased to see the way his eyes popped when he took in her outfit. A warm feeling filled her as she watched him swallow before meeting her eyes.

Men. They were so easy. Most men thought that going out with her would be exciting, the idea of dating a witch giving them an extra thrill. They were usually disappointed when they realized that instead of a being a wily seductress in black garters, she was usually in bed by nine with a good book, wearing flannel pajama pants covered in cat hair.

But Finney didn’t seem to have any interest in her witchcraft abilities at all. In fact, he thought it was all nonsense and even made fun of her. She definitely didn’t need that kind of energy in her life.

So why was she imagining herself in bed reading, but cuddled up next to him? Without the flannel pants. Now that she knew what a fuddy-duddy he was, he’d probably ignore her to read the latest issue of Detectives R Us. Why was she fantasizing about taking off his reading glasses and his shirt, but leaving on the holster and the gun? Maybe he had a tattoo. Whoa. Down, girl.

She was getting carried away. A guy like that might have a tattoo, but it probably said “Mom” or the Japanese symbol for “boring.”

“Zia, this is my business partner, Jake Landon, and his girlfriend, Sunny.” Finn’s introductions drew her out of her musings. He pointed to the elderly woman who was perusing her bookshelves. “And this is Sunny’s neighbor, Edna Allen.”

Edna waved. “We already know each other. I came to Madame Zia for a reading earlier this summer.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Of course you did.”

Edna waved a dismissive hand at Finn. “Don’t make fun. She was spot-on. She told me that I was going to find something this summer. Something I thought I had lost a long time ago. And something with an element of danger to it.”

Zia smiled warmly at Edna. “It’s nice to see you, Edna. And I’m curious, did you find it?”

Edna laughed. “I sure did. And he’s back at my house now working in the garden.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “And he brought danger with him all right, but now the only thing that’s dangerous is that our passion is so hot it might burn my house down.”

“Eww. Edna, stop it. I do not need that image in my head.” Sunny shook her head good-naturedly at her neighbor. “It’s nice to meet you, Zia. Sorry about the trouble. This is Officer McCarthy; he’s responding to the call about the break-in.” She pointed to the tall, good-looking police officer who had followed them in.

He was regarding the room, his eyes narrowed as if looking for clues. “It’s hard for me to get a good read on the damage. It looks like you’ve cleaned most everything up.” He sniffed the air and gave Zia a curious look. “It kind of smells like marijuana in here.”

Zia rolled her eyes. “It’s the sage.”

Mac shrugged. “Well, it is Colorado.”

“It’s cleansing the room, and I didn’t call the police. Finney did. I already know what did the damage to my office, and you won’t find any fingerprints.” She looked around the room and held up her EMF meter. “But I am picking up a lot of fluctuations in the electromagnetic fields. I’ve gotten several readings in the two and three range.”

“Hot dang, you have the Deluxe Pro Detector.” Edna scurried across the room to check out the gadget. “This one has all the fancy functions. Even a flashlight.”

“Wow. Even a flashlight? Sounds pretty scientific to me,” Finn mumbled, and rolled his eyes again.

Edna nodded, her fingers twitching as if she were itching to touch it. “It is. And if you’re getting readings that low, there are definite signs of spiritual activity.”

“I’ve heard anything electronic can trigger those things. Like a computer or even a toaster,” Finn said, the skepticism apparent in his voice.

“Look around, Mr. Finney. Does it look like I have a toaster in here? And those things can give off readings, but anything between the two and seven range is too low for standard electronics and suggests a spiritual presence. It’s scientifically impossible for low-level electromagnetic fields to occur naturally, but we usually find these fields where there’s been spiritual activity reported.”

Edna nodded, waving her scanner along the counter. “It’s commonly accepted that spirits are the cause of the unexplainable EMF readings. Don’t you have the internet, Mr. Finney?” She squinted at the readout. “I’m getting really low levels as well. I have to agree with Madame Zia — there is a definite spiritual presence here.”

Finn turned to Officer McCarthy. “Well, there you have it. I guess we don’t really need you after all. These two have cracked the case with their Inspector Gadget gizmos and they’ve confirmed that Casper the friendly ghost is the culprit. You might have a little trouble getting the handcuffs on him, though.”

Jake and Mac chuckled, but Edna put a hand on her hip and gave him a steely stare. “You can joke all you want, but we don’t know if this Casper is friendly or evil, so I wouldn’t go spouting too much sarcasm. Madame Zia is a renowned psychic, and if she says she feels evil, I trust her.”

“Thank you, Edna.” Zia turned to Mac. “Have there been any missing persons cases recently, or any suspicious calls to 911? I think someone was murdered here last night. Maybe someone called in reports of a gunshot or something.”

“Not that I’m aware of. But I don’t see any evidence to suggest murder.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll just take a quick look around, and then I need to head back in. I’ll ask around and let you know if I hear anything, and be sure to call me if anything else happens.”

“Don’t worry, we will,” Edna said. “I’ve got your number programmed into my phone.”

Mac raised an eyebrow. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”

Edna absently waved him away. She stood at the bookshelves, opening jars and bottles and peering in or sniffing their contents. “Do you have any dragon tears or eye of newt? Every time I google spells or magical recipes, they always ask for animal blood, eye of newt, or the tears of a dragon. Just who is making all these dragons cry? And what the heck is a newt? And how many poor blind newts are stumbling around in the darkness because their eyes are an essential ingredient in almost every magical spell?”

Finn spent the afternoon cleaning his office and putting his files back together. He’d ordered a pizza in for delivery and had considered taking a slice over to Zia as a goodwill gesture, but reconsidered at the last minute. She probably didn’t even eat pizza. From what he’d learned of her today, she was probably a vegan and only drank purified water from a natural spring in the Himalayas. He couldn’t imagine her desecrating her body by guzzling greasy cheese and spicy pepperoni.

Oh great. Now he was thinking of her body again. He’d been shocked when he’d walked into her office earlier and saw her without the robe. The snug top and short skirt filled in all the blanks that his imagination had been guessing about. And they were great blanks. Slender waist, curvy hips, toned legs, and breasts the perfect size to fit in the palms of his hands.

His hands twitched as he imagined filling them with the heavy weight of her breasts and sliding his fingers across the pale crests that peeked from the top of her blouse. He envisioned pulling her to him and crushing those perfect red lips with his while his hands explored every curve and swell of her body.

Hmmm. He was getting a swell of his own just thinking about it. What was going on? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had afternoon wood just by daydreaming about a dame. Why was he letting this crazy chick with her ghost gadgets and spiritual nonsense get into his head? Maybe she had put a spell on him.

He checked his watch and was surprised to see it was already past five. He should just go home, take a shower (a cold one), then put his feet up, find a game on the tube, and forget about this woman with the long hair and the weird notions.

Yeah, that was what he should do. But maybe first he would just check in on her real quick. Make sure she hadn’t had any other trouble. In fact, he’d had an odd client stop by that afternoon and he wanted to mention it to her. She’d probably already gone home for the day anyway.

It couldn’t hurt just to check.

Zia had her back to the door, but she knew instantly who had just walked through it. Not through any psychic abilities but because she could smell his aftershave. She inhaled the scent, a deep, musky smell that seemed to wrap around her and reach into her soul.

She must be tired. Plenty of men wore great-smelling aftershave. And they weren’t close-minded jerks who were too full of themselves and their own ideas to explore new realms of possibilities. But she’d never had another man’s scent connect so deeply to her, and she wondered if their animal counterparts were somehow similar — that would account for the craving she suddenly had to mate with this man.

Mate with him? Ugh! Where did that come from? She needed to be calm and act cool right now. She sent up a silent request to the Earth Mother for patience and wisdom as she turned to Finn.

He looked tired too. He stood in the doorway, not quite in the room, as if waiting to be invited in. A lock of his sandy brown hair fell across his forehead, and she had the urge to reach up and brush it from his face. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Finney?”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry. Finn.” She crossed the room and gestured for him to come in then closed the door. She’d taken her shoes off, so he stood a good several inches above her. She looked up at him. The colors of his aura swirled around his head, and she itched to take his hand and check out the lines on his palms.

Okay, she really just wanted to hold his hand, but reading his palm was a good excuse. “Was there something you needed?” Like a night of hot sex with a barefoot psychic? Oh gosh, what was wrong with her? She needed to get a grip and quit thinking about mating with this guy. Maybe her aura was off.

“I’m getting ready to head out for the night and just thought I’d check on you. Make sure you were all right. Not spooked by the break-in.”

Aww. He was worried about her. That was nice, in a Neanderthal kind of way. Like she couldn’t take care of herself. “On the contrary, I’m not spooked at all. In fact, I’m quite intrigued by the whole thing.”

He shook his head. “Who says ‘on the contrary’?”

This time she raised an eyebrow at him. “Was there something else or did you just stop in to insult my vocabulary?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. I just can’t figure you out. In my line of work, I have to get a feel for someone quickly, and I’m usually pretty dead-on with first impressions. But I can’t seem to get a read on you. You’re an enigma.” He grinned. “See, I can also use a fancy word to when I need to.”

Why did this man infuriate and amuse her at the same time? “I am a woman, Finn. You were not meant to figure us out. Besides, even if we came with instruction manuals, men never read the instructions anyway.”

He laughed. A soft chuckle that went all the way to his eyes. He did have great eyes. Brown with flecks of gold. If someone asked her to describe Jerry Finney in one word, it would have to be “average.” He was of average height and build. His face was average and he tended to blend in with the people in the room.

But it was when she got in close that she realized he wasn’t average at all. His eyes were intelligent and sparked with amusement. He hid great muscles under boring Oxford shirts and had a gun holster strapped on under his tweed jacket. Tweed jackets were the poster children for boring and stuffy. Maybe blending in was just part of his job, a way for him to observe and not be noticed. Maybe he wasn’t as dull as she’d thought.

“Well, I was just getting ready to head home and catch a game on TV, and wanted to check on you.”

Nope. She’d been right. Totally dull. “Thanks. I’m fine.”

He stood awkwardly by the door as if he didn’t quite want to leave, but didn’t have a reason to stay. “I did want to tell you that I had an odd client come in today. A gal named Phyllis stopped in and wanted me to look for her missing husband. She filed a missing-persons report but since he’s only been gone since yesterday, she doesn’t think the police took it very seriously. But she’s sure he’s gone. She claims they’ve been married forty years and he’s never missed dinner. Until last night.”

“She stopped in here too. Phyllis is one of my regular clients; she comes in every Friday. She’s a sweet lady but she was really upset today. She told me she thought her husband had gotten himself into some kind of trouble. She wouldn’t tell me everything, but I know it had something to do with some jewels, and I kept feeling diamonds around her. I was going to come over and tell you about it, but I know you think this is a bunch of nonsense.”

“You still should have told me. I don’t believe in coincidences, so if she came to see both of us, maybe this is connected to what happened last night. You were asking that cop earlier about any recent missing-persons cases.” He rubbed his jaw, and she could tell he was thinking through each possibility. She could almost see the puzzle pieces of thought clicking into place. “Diamonds, you said? I was just reading an article about a jewelry heist that happened a couple of days ago. Maybe this is connected.”

“I saw that too.”

He looked at her quizzically.

“Like I saw it in the paper, you dope. Not I ‘saw’ it in the future.”

“Sorry. I don’t know how all this works. I’m really not trying to be an ass. I just have a hard time believing in any of this mumbo-jumbo.”

She gave him a wry look. “No, really, calling my profession ‘mumbo-jumbo’ is not being an ass at all.”

He grinned. “You’re right. I apologize. My mind is just too analytical. I look at facts and evidence. And I’ve seen too much fraud and deceit. It’s hard for me to accept any of this.” He gestured around the room.

Reaching for his hand, she looked up at him. Touching him sent a little thrill all the way up her spine, but she ignored it in an effort to convey the sincerity of her thoughts. “Haven’t you ever lost someone? Someone close to you?”

She watched his eyes soften as he swallowed, and thought she might have a glimmer of a chance to make him understand. “If there was a way to connect with them, even in a small way, wouldn’t you want to try? I believe that there is. Not always, but sometimes. I believe that there’s a whole other spirit realm that exists, and in certain circumstances our realms can connect and we can glimpse the other side. But the first step is believing that it’s there and reaching out to connect to it.”

Still holding his hand, she felt the pulse in his wrist speed up. Was it because of how close she stood, or were her words really getting to him? He leaned slightly forward, and her breath caught as she wondered if he might kiss her. Afraid to move, even to breathe, she looked up at him from under dark eyelashes, willing him to lean closer still.

A glass bowl fell off the counter, smashing to the ground, causing her to jump and let out a little shriek of alarm. She turned to see the cat streaking off the counter, her tail most likely the culprit of the smashed bowl. She laughed, but the moment was lost.

“I appreciate what you’re saying, Zia, but too many times there’s a logical explanation for things that people claim are illogical.” He stooped to pick up the pieces of glass. “Like your cat’s tail knocking this off.”

“That’s why I’m staying here tonight. I feel like something more is going on and our culprit might return. I’m setting up the video camera and plan to wait here all night.”

“Like a stakeout? Now you’re talking my language.”

“Would you care to join me?”

“Okay. But have you ever done a stakeout? Usually you hang around for hours, bored out of your mind, and the only time anything happens is when you grab a thirty-second break to take a piss.”

She grinned. “Then it will be good to have a stakeout partner. We can keep each other from getting bored and can serve as lookout in case one of us needs to…er…piss, I guess.”

He chuckled, and the sound of his laughter gave her a little tingly feeling. Why did she suddenly feel like a schoolgirl who’d just agreed to sneak out to spend the night with her crush?

“Since you’re the expert, what would you suggest we bring to this stakeout party? I’ve got the video camera, and I was going to run home to grab some snacks and change into something more comfortable.”

“I can’t believe you would use ‘stakeout’ and ‘party’ in the same sentence. There is nothing festive about them. But yeah, I would wear something comfortable, and I guess you can bring some food if you want. My stakeout fare usually consists of a thermos of coffee and a bag of sunflower seeds.”

She checked her watch. “Okay, I’ll run home now. Let’s meet back here at eight. We can set up the surveillance equipment then.” She rubbed her hands together in delight. “Let’s catch ourselves a ghost.”

Chapter Four

Finn knocked on Zia’s office door. He carried a green thermos of coffee and had a lunch-size cooler and a backpack full of surveillance equipment slung across his shoulder. He wouldn’t trust anything she captured on some crazy gear she bought off the internet. In fact, he wasn’t going to believe that anything supernatural was going on until he saw it with his own two eyes.

Eyes that bugged out now as Zia opened the door. She’d changed clothes and wore a snug black t-shirt and skintight black jeans tucked into black knee-high boots.

Her outfit hugged every curve of her body, and he found himself speechless, his mouth dry as his mind raced with thoughts of holding that body against him. Against him, under him. Hell, over him would be good too.

He cleared his throat. “Nice outfit. I thought you were going for something more comfortable, like those yoga pant deals. You look like you’re getting ready to rob a bank.” Smooth move, Ex-lax. Way to win her over. Women love it when you make fun of their outfit choices.

She grinned, apparently unfazed by his mocking. “Too much? It’s my first stakeout and I just wanted to be prepared. I always go overboard. Sorry.” She wrinkled her nose and gave a nervous little giggle.

“It’s okay. You look…fine…er…I mean great. You look great.” Could he be any more of a dork? He cleared his throat. Back to business. “Where do you want me to set up?”

“Oh, I thought if we put the camera by the register then we could wait behind the counter so we’d be hidden if someone came in through the front door.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Do ghosts usually come in through the front door?”

“No, but I’m trying to keep my mind open to all possibilities. Like I hope you’re doing. Whatever is happening, I want to be prepared for anything.”

As annoying as he found her kooky fortune-telling nonsense, he found that the more he was around her, the more he liked her. She always seemed to look at things in a positive light, and he hadn’t heard her complain yet. Even when her office had been trashed and her things had been destroyed, she seemed unfazed. Most of the women he’d dated spent half the night complaining about everything from their weight to the high price of cosmetics. Like he gave two hoots about the cost of mascara.

But Zia was different than anyone he’d ever met before, and he found himself drawn to her. Not just her curves, but her smile and her easygoing manner. She was fun to be around, but he didn’t think he could get past her weird ideas and crazy notions. She’d flat out told him she was a witch. What was he supposed to do with that?

He held up the thermos as he walked across the room and dropped the cooler and his backpack. “I grabbed some of my equipment and some food. And I brought coffee.”

“Oh, me too.” She pointed at the drink carrier on the counter holding two carryout cups from a fancy coffee joint. “I brought us some pumpkin spice lattes. And I had them put in extra shots of espresso.”

“Pumpkin spice what?”

She laughed and handed him a cup. “Pumpkin spice lattes. Don’t you ever get out? People line up for these when they come back every fall.”

“No people that I know.”

“Just try it.”

He gingerly took a sip. Just to prove he could be open-minded too. It was warm and cinnamony, with a little kick. He shrugged. “Not bad. Kinda good, even. It tastes like Thanksgiving in a cup.”

She grinned. “Exactly. See what you can discover when you try new things?”

Hmmm. Why was he imagining her as one of the new things he’d like to discover? Like one of the New World explorers, he could envision scaling her peaks and surveying her valleys. Just like Magellan, he could start an expedition across her unexplored territory.

She eyed him curiously and with a tiny gleam in her eye, as if she could actually read his mind. He was in big trouble if she could. He was afraid his man’s mind would be disappointing and fairly predictable, considering his thoughts usually tended to the topics of sex, food, and work, or some combination of the three, like “what should he eat for lunch at work and when did he think he would be having sex again?”

He set up his equipment, and she grabbed some throw pillows and blankets and made them a little nest on the floor behind the counter. He gingerly sat on a blue pillow and leaned his back against the wall. “This is the most comfortable stakeout I’ve ever been on. I’ve never brought a pillow before. Wouldn’t want to fall asleep.”

“I figured since there were two of us, we could take turns sleeping while the other kept a lookout.” She locked the door and turned out the lights. A soft glow filled the room from the display lights under the counter, and she plopped onto the floor next to his outstretched legs.

Yeah, right. Like he was going to fall asleep with her sitting this close to him, the smell of her perfume filling his every sense. “Do you really think we’re going to see something?”

She nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. I know we are. I can feel the upheaval and terror in this room. I know something evil happened here, and I just know whatever’s happening is not finished.”

What a load of crap. Did she seriously buy into all this nonsense she was spouting? “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I just know we’re going to see something tonight.”

“Look, I don’t claim to have any spiritual Spidey sense like you do, but I do believe in intuition and trusting my gut. And my gut is telling me that stuff happened because an actual person, that’s still alive, broke in and tossed our offices.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” She settled in next to him against the wall. “And speaking of guts, I’m getting hungry. You ready for a snack?”

“Sure.” He reached for the cooler and pulled out a container of sliced veggies and an expensive bottle of water.

She eyed the bottle. “I thought you said you only ate sunflower seeds and drank coffee.”

“I do. But I thought you might like this stuff.”

“Oh.”

Her mouth formed a perfect O, and his thoughts went to dark ideas of taking those lips as his.

She grinned and broke the spell. “You bought this stuff for me? That is soooo sweet.” She picked up the fancy bottle of water and read the label. “This water is from a natural spring somewhere in Europe. Judging from the price tag, you could’ve skipped the water and just brought us a bottle of wine.”

“I’ll remember that for next time.” Next time? Who said anything about a next time? Next time their offices were ransacked and they had to do a midnight stakeout? He frowned and pointed at her bag. “What did you bring?”

She dumped her bag on the blanket in front of them. He gaped at the collection of cheese puffs, potato chips, candy bars, and chocolate cupcakes. “I’m afraid my snack choices are a little less healthy than yours.”

She did that thing again where she wrinkled her nose and grinned, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

His office had been next to hers for months and he’d never taken the time to even have a conversation with her. He’d made up his mind and thought he knew everything about her before he’d had a chance to get to know her. And his snap judgments were turning out to be dead wrong. She’d brought cheese puffs, for crap’s sake. “You really eat all this stuff?”

She laughed and reached for a candy bar, totally at ease with eating the junk food. “Oh yeah, I love all this stuff. I’ll punish myself on the treadmill later or take a hike, but it’s worth it.” She took a bite of chocolate then closed her eyes and groaned in ecstasy. “So worth it.”

Geez. What was going on with him? Maybe instead of a shot of espresso, she’d put horny potion in that pumpkin spice thing, because her eating that candy bar was totally turning him on. Watching her eyes close and that groan. Holy mother.

The way she tipped back her head gave him a clear view of her pale skin, and he ached to bury his face against her neck. His own pulse picked up a beat as he imagined the feel of hers pulsing under his lips as he ravaged her throat with passionate kisses.

He felt like a teenage boy. His hands were even beginning to sweat. He did not react this way to women. To anyone. She had to have spiked his drink with some hocus-pocus. Or maybe those weren’t ordinary incense sticks she was burning earlier. His mind reached for any explanation rather than the obvious one. That he was falling for her.

And that was not going to happen. He cleared his throat and reached for his thermos of coffee. “I think I’ll just stick to coffee for now.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. I brought pop too.” She hauled out a six-pack of highly caffeinated soda. Not even diet. Who was this woman? “It’s not expensive mountain spring water, but it’s got caffeine and carbonation.”

She laughed, but he knew it was with him and not at him, and something about the sound of her laughter touched him. She seemed so genuine. He wanted to believe in her. But he’d been burned before, and with fatal consequences. It was hard for him to believe she could be this nice. Hard to believe anyone could be this positive.

In his line of work, he’d seen the worst in humanity. He’d seen terrible things that people had done to each other out of greed or jealousy or even in the name of love. His life might seem boring to her, but he liked it that way. And it helped in his work. Standing on the outside gave him the chance to see things objectively, rationally, without all the emotions getting involved.

He knew people could lie and cheat and steal and pretend to be something they weren’t. He’d dated plenty of women, but most were superficial and only out for themselves. Maybe those were the ones he picked on purpose, because he knew he could keep them at arm’s length and not get emotionally attached. Life was easier that way. Don’t get attached. Don’t get involved. Don’t get hurt.

So what was he doing up in the middle of the night, sitting on a girly throw pillow, grinning like an idiot at a woman who claimed to be a psychic? A psychic, for frick’s sake. And why the hell had he made a special trip to a fancy grocery store to buy her a twelve-dollar bottle of freaking water?

He shifted on the pillow and forced a frown.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Uh oh. What just happened? You were easy and funny a second ago, and you just shut down. What’s going on?”

“Oh yeah. Did you see that in your crystal ball?” That was a low blow, and he felt like a jackass as he watched a flicker of hurt cross her eyes. Better that than the goo-goo eyes she was making at him a minute ago that were causing a crazy commotion in his gut.

“No. It doesn’t take a psychic to see what you’re feeling. Besides, I’m a woman. We’re skilled at reading emotions. And your emotions are all over your face. Your expression just went from amused to angry in two seconds flat. So what’s up? What just made you so pissy?”

“I do not get pissy.”

“Okay, guarded, then. Or just plain pissed. Are those manly enough adjectives for you?”

“Look, I just don’t buy in to all this psychic fortune-telling stuff. I don’t trust what I can’t see and prove. I’ve seen too much fraud and too many scams with this stuff.”

“There’s fraud and scams in plenty of things. Check-writing fraud and fake lotteries are huge scams, but you believe those exist.”

“But lottery scams don’t get people killed.” He sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair. “Look, before I went into private investigations, I was a cop. I left the police force after a child was kidnapped and we couldn’t solve the case. In a kidnapping case, timing is everything. You have this short window to follow the tracks and try to find the kid. They brought in this so-called psychic to help on the case, and after a hellish night of false leads and a wild-goose chase she led us on, we finally found the kid.”

“So the psychic helped?”

“No. She kept giving us these wild leads and we threw all our resources at tracking them down. We wasted so much time on her stupid guesses and false tips that by the time we really found the kid, it was too late. He was dead.”

Zia gasped. “Oh no.”

“Oh yeah. If we would have just followed standard procedure, tracked down actual clues and solid leads, we might have saved that boy’s life.” His chest tightened as the long-buried feelings of frustration and anger threatened to bubble to the surface. He closed his eyes against the memory of the child’s lifeless body still clad in the blue pajamas he’d worn to bed the night he’d been abducted.

He flinched as Zia gently touched his arm then relaxed as he felt the warmth of her hand seep into his skin. Not sure if it was the soft lighting or the nearness of the woman and the open expression of kindness on her face, but he felt like he could talk to her. Open up and tell her the horrible sadness of the situation.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry too. I left the force after that. Decided I wanted to be in charge of my own investigations. I wanted to call the shots and not be at the mercy of someone else’s decisions. And I sure as hell wouldn’t ever again let myself buy in to some crackpot claiming to be a psychic.” He grimaced and put his hand on top of hers. “No offense.”

“None taken. You’re not the first person to take a shot at my profession. And you won’t be the last. Finn, there are frauds in this field, and plenty of them. But there are frauds in lots of professions. There’s always going to be people that take advantage of those in need for their own selfish gain. And there are all different levels of expertise in this field as well. Just like in sports, there are people who know how to throw a football around and then there are professional ball players who get paid a lot of money. But they both consider themselves football players.”

“Saying you can catch a football is a little bit different than claiming you can read people’s minds.”

“I don’t claim to be a mind reader, but I do believe that I can read people. That I am attuned to their feelings. I also use tools that help me. Tarot cards and crystals for healing. And I do believe in ghosts and spirits, and I know that at times, I have the ability to connect to them.”

He scoffed. “You’ve talked to ghosts?”

“Yes.”

“Like who? Ben Franklin? Marilyn Monroe? Elvis? Who are these ghosts you’ve talked to?”

Her eyes took on a sorrowful gaze, and her next words were so soft that Finn had to lean closer to hear them. “My husband, for one.”

He blinked. “I didn’t know you were married.”

“I’m not. Now. But I was. We met in college and fell madly in love. We got married as soon as we graduated. We’d been married about three years and had been up in the mountains to visit his parents for Christmas break. We got a late start home, and by the time we came down the pass, it was dark and a storm had set in. The snow was blinding and the roads were icy and treacherous. We came around a bend and a deer was standing in the middle of the road. My husband swerved to miss it, slid on the ice, and our car went off the side of the road and plummeted partway down the cliff.”

“You could have been killed.”

“I almost was.” Her eyes took on a faraway gaze, as if she were watching the scene in the past. “The windshield shattered as the car crashed through trees, and a branch from a tree stabbed through my shoulder, impaling me to the seat. I couldn’t move and I was losing a lot of blood. My husband was bleeding from a head wound, and I can remember how bright red the blood was against his white shirt. I had this crazy thought that it would be a good shade to paint the trim in our kitchen. We had this whole black-and-white theme going, with red accents. Isn’t that a funny thing to be thinking about? I was dying and yet contemplating what shade of red to paint our kitchen.”

He touched her arm lightly, wanting to offer some kind of support for such a terrible experience. The look of pure pain in her eyes shot through him, as if he were the one who had been impaled. “People do all sorts of things in crisis situations. It’s the brain’s way of helping them to cope.”

She looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears, and the corners of her mouth tipped up a little in a mournful smile. “What helped me cope was the strength of my husband and his unfailing support. He applied pressure to my wound and kept me talking. I can remember clearly the way he encouraged me to hang on and stay with him. He kept talking about these funny memories of our time together, and I can even remember the stupid jokes he told. He was covered in blood, so much blood, but he wouldn’t let me give up. Wouldn’t let me surrender to the pain.

“I don’t know exactly how long we were trapped. Witnesses later said it took the ambulance twenty minutes to get to us, and at least another ten minutes to get me out of the car. I lost consciousness as soon as I heard the sirens and knew help was on the way. The last thing I remember was him holding my hand and telling me to stay. To not give up.”

“He must have loved you very much.”

She nodded, a slight bob of her head. Her next words were choked with emotion. “I woke up in the hospital the next day. I asked the nurses where my husband was and if he was okay. They told me that he had died on impact. That he’d broken his neck in the fall and died instantly.”

His heart stopped at her statement, and his breath caught in his throat. She turned to look at him, really look in his eyes, and he thought his heart could break at the pain evident in them. He didn’t know if he fully believed the story, but he knew she believed it. It was clear that she believed every word. And she wanted him to believe her.

She swiped at the lone tear rolling down her cheek. “I’ve only told that story to a few people. Honestly, I don’t know why I even just told you. I guess I just wanted you to understand. It’s not hocus-pocus nonsense to me. Connecting with the other side is very real to me. And having gone through the pain of losing someone so close, having survived such a tragedy helps me to be able to connect to people, to see their pain and to work with them to try to heal.”

He didn’t know how to react, and couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands. He wanted to touch her. To hold her. To protect her from her pain. To tell her he was sorry, but he couldn’t open his mouth. He didn’t know what to say.

She stared at him. “Well, say something. Don’t just stare at me. Tell me what you’re thinking. What you’re feeling.”

“First of all, I don’t talk about my feelings, and second of all, I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling. I want to wrap you in my arms and protect you and never let you get hurt again. And at the same time, I want to rip your clothes off and kiss you senseless and make you forget you’ve ever had a sad moment in your life.”

She laughed. A laugh choked with tears. “Now that’s a feeling I understand. You drive me insane with your close-mindedness, and I feel like the best choice for me is to walk away from you. But my hands are itching to touch you, and all I want to do is dig into that shell of yours and uncover the man who’s afraid to believe in things he can’t prove.”

“I’m not afraid. I just have a hard time believing it.”

“I know. And I can’t figure out how to feel about that. I like you, but you infuriate me. You make my insides go a little gooey at the same time you get my back up in frustration. As much as I’ve been thinking about kissing you and fantasizing about your hands on me, I’m not sure what I can do about it. How can I be with someone that doesn’t believe in the most important life-changing event of my life?”

Did she just say she’d been fantasizing about his hands on her? Everything else in the room fell away. Everything except this woman, with her cascades of long, dark hair that he was itching to drive his hands through. Everything but her. Her pain-filled eyes and her full lips.

Her scent swirled around him, enveloping him in a cloak of musky tones full of sex and femininity. He heard his throat click as he swallowed. His mouth dry, his words soft and full of want. “I don’t know. How can you?”

She hesitated, only a moment, searching his eyes. He felt like she could see into his very soul as she reached up to touch his cheek. A shiver ran through him as she whispered, “I guess like this.” She leaned forward, and his breath caught at the nearness of her.

He reached for her, and the silky softness of her hair caressed his hand as he slid it around her neck and pulled her closer to him. Her mouth was so close to his. All he had to do was lean a little closer and her lips would be his. He hesitated, savoring the sweet moment of anticipation.

So close, he gently touched her lips. One soft, sweet kiss. A kiss that elicited a low sigh of pleasure that went straight to his gut. His stomach was turning circles, and he ached to dive in and take her, but the moment was too good to rush. Indulging in the decadent promise of what was to come. Just a small taste. A little nibble before the richness of the bite.

He knew this was probably a bad idea. Knew he was just getting caught up in the moment. The stakeout, a gorgeous woman, and cupcakes. What man wouldn’t be turned on?

But he knew it was more. More than a momentary lapse of judgment. This woman had somehow seeped into his soul. With her positive spirit and her easy laugh. And her generous curves. Lord help him, her curves. And he was inches away from touching those curves now. Did he dare?

He was normally so cautious, thinking through every decision, making the wise choice. She lightly licked his bottom lip, and that was it. All rationale disappeared.

He reached for her and pulled her body into his lap, and finally his hands were on her. He feasted on her lips, taking her mouth in ravenous hunger as he filled his hands with her. Touching every inch of her. Caressing and stroking.

She tasted like chocolate and coffee, and he could not stop kissing her. The feel of her hands in his hair and clutching his back almost sent him over the edge with desire. Having her in his lap allowed him to wrap her in his arms and still touch and feel and explore her body.

Dipping his head to her neck, he laid a hot trail of kisses down her throat. Inhaling her scent, he slowed, savoring the softness of her skin as his kisses moved down her neck. She sighed again and arched her back as he brushed his lips against the tops of her breasts.

“You feel so good,” he growled, his voice husky with want.

He could have wept with the ache of wanting her beneath him. He shifted their bodies, holding her against him as he eased her onto the floor, resting her head on one of the pillows. Her long hair spread out across the floor like a silken pool of black liquid, dark and lush.

She looked up at him, her eyes full of desire and vulnerability. Like she was trusting him not to hurt her. Not to break her heart. He pulled back. What if he couldn’t be the man she needed? The man she wanted?

She reached up and ran her fingers along the leather strap of his gun holster. “That was pretty sexy the way you pulled your gun this morning and pushed me behind you to protect me.” Her words were playful, flirty. He could handle playful, but he was terrible at flirting. It made him feel like a dork and that he was always doing it wrong. But she did say she thought he looked sexy.

He shrugged out of the holster and carefully placed the gun on the floor, out of their way. “Unfortunately, my gun’s pretty rusty. It hasn’t been used in a while.”

Her eyes widened, and he could tell she was trying to keep a straight face. The corners of her mouth tipped up. “Was that your attempt at flirting? Because I’m not sure that was your best line.”

Feeling the heat of embarrassment warm his neck, he paused, watching her face, trying to decipher if she was teasing or mocking. Her face broke into a grin, and he relaxed, easing his body down on top of her. “Pretty terrible, huh? I almost went with something about my gun not being the only thing that was loaded, but I knew that would be wrong too.”

She let loose a peal of laughter followed by a snort of giggles, and he smiled down at her. Her laughter was like magic to him, the melodic tones seeping into his soul. He picked up a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “Look, Zia, I’m just a simple guy. Not suave or debonair. Just ordinary and probably too jaded. But I like you.”

Her laughter stopped. She blinked up at him, her brown eyes at first round and surprised, then softening with affection. “I like you too.”

“I may not believe in all this magic, but I believe in chemistry and the laws of attraction. And I know that people can have a connection, even when they’ve only known each other a short time. And crisis can make that connection stronger.”

“Do you feel like that? Like you only feel connected to me because of this crisis?”

“No. I feel connected to you because of the way you smile at me. This crisis has nothing to do with the way your laugh makes my stomach feel funny or the way I can’t seem to keep my hands off of you. Or the way my spine tingles when you touch me. That’s chemistry. This crazy feeling that makes me ache to touch you. To kiss you.”

He skimmed her lips with the edge of his thumb, and she gasped. A small catch of her breath as she bit her bottom lip in rapture and he couldn’t take his eyes off her lips. He had to kiss her, to take her.

Passion filled him as he leaned down and kissed her mouth. Kissed her with the ravenous desire of a man stranded in a desert and thirsty for water. His hands roamed her body, seeking to learn every curve. He couldn’t get enough.

He pulled back and stripped off his t-shirt. He liked the way her eyes darkened as she took in his muscled chest. He might be boring, but he still worked out. She pushed up from the floor, and he tugged her shirt over her head, leaving her in only jeans and a black lacy bra.

She lay back on the floor, letting him look at her, giving him his fill of her lush body. Grinning up at him, she squeezed her legs around him and drew his hips tighter to her. “I can tell by the size of your gun that you must like what you see.”

Words failed him. He knew she was teasing, but he could only nod. She really did look like a witch, with her long, dark hair spread out around her and the black lace against her pale skin. In the dim light of the room, her eyes seem to mesmerize him, capture him in her spell. She must have put a spell on him. How else could he be feeling so much, like she affected every one of his senses? How she looked and felt, the sound of her laugh, the way she smelled, the way she tasted — Lord help him, she tasted so damn good.

He leaned down, needing to feel her, to taste her again.

“Oh, Finn,” she whispered, and a soft moan escaped her as he drew her lips into a passionate kiss, and for just one fleeting moment, he believed in magic.

A jagged sunburst scar lay in the dip of her shoulder, and he laid a soft kiss on the scarred tissue. Sliding down her body, he ran his lips down her skin and kissed the soft spot just below her belly button. Her gasp of pleasure was all the encouragement he needed as he flicked open the top button of her jeans. She gripped handfuls of his hair as he slowly unzipped her jeans and ran his tongue along the lacy edge of her panties.

Another moan filled the room, this one low and eerie, and her hand tightened on his hair as she froze. “That wasn’t me,” she whispered. “Please tell me that was you.”

He sat up, one hand automatically reaching for his gun as he pulled her into a protective embrace. “That sure as hell wasn’t me.”

The sound again, this time coming from the other side of the wall; another low moan followed by a soft thump against the wall.

Finn tossed Zia her top and yanked his shirt on. He scanned the room, his senses on high alert, listening for a clue to the source of the sound.

“It sounds like it might be coming from your office,” Zia said, her voice muffled as she pulled her shirt over her head.

Damn shame to cover up that beautiful skin. Focus, Finn. There was a ghost to catch. Wait, make that a goon to catch. Someone was probably tossing his office right now. They’d picked the wrong room to stage their stakeout.

“I’m gonna check it out. Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Not on your life, bud. I’m coming with you.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “You better grab your stuff, then. We’re going ghost hunting.”

Chapter Five

Zia followed Finn through the door and into the hallway, mesmerized by the instant switch from passionate lover to steely detective. He held his gun in front of him, his stance alert and ready as he glanced down the hallway, watchful of danger.

She knew she should be looking around as well, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Plus, he had such a great butt.

“Are you checking out my ass?” he whispered.

A giggle bubbled in her throat and threatened to escape. “Yes. Guilty as charged.”

“Carry on, then.” He never missed a beat, making the flirty joke without cracking a smile. He really was funny. How did she ever think this man was boring?

He moved a step closer to his door, passing the utility closet that sat between their two offices. Another low moan sounded, and they stopped in their tracks. A strange scraping sound came from behind the closet door, and a chill ran up Zia’s spine.

“I think it’s coming from in there,” she whispered, and pointed her EMF meter at the door. The lights on the meter went crazy, flashing and blinking. “There’s definitely something happening in that closet.”

Finn pushed her behind him, stopping to give her a coy smile, as he must have remembered her earlier comment about how she thought that was sexy.

He turned the knob and yanked the door open. A startled cry came from the closet, and it took her a moment to process the scene. She took in two people on the floor of the closet, a lot of bare skin, various stages of undress, and a slutty nurse sitting on top of what appeared to be a pirate.

“What the hell, dude?” the pirate asked as the slutty nurse giggled and flashed Finn a nice view of her exposed chest. The smell of alcohol and perfume filled the air.

“This is private property. You folks need to move it along.” Finn waved the gun at the couple before clipping it back into his holster.

“Is that gun real?” Dial-a-Nurse asked, letting loose another round of drunken giggles. The gun was more real than the double-Ds she was taking her sweet time putting away.

“Yes, it’s real, and so is the trespassing violation you’re about to get,” Finn said. Zia appreciated the way he averted his eyes, even though the woman was obviously putting on a show for him, the way she was bending and adjusting as she tried to stuff everything back into the too-tight Halloween costume.

“Relax, dude,” the bare-chested pirate said. “It’s Halloween. We’ve been at the party across the street and the door of this building was open. We were just looking for a little privacy.” He gave the woman an exaggerated wink and slapped her on the rear end. “I wasn’t feeling so hot, so this lovely nurse offered to give me a checkup.”

The lovely nurse smiled up at Finn and Zia. “Yeah, we were just having a little fun. Do you two want to join us? We’ve got plenty of pirate rum.” She burst into another round of giggles, and her companion grinned and held up a bottle.

“I think we’re good. You two better get on back to the party now.” Finn held out a hand and hoisted the pirate to his feet. The drunken nurse took a little more hoisting, and she fell against Finn much more than necessary.

Finally the couple made their way across the hall and out the front door.

Zia stepped into the crowded utility room and looked around. The light from the hallway fell into the closet, dimly illuminating the small space. A shiver ran up her back, but all she saw was a shelf of cleaning supplies down one side of the closet, and several mops, brooms, and spare materials leaning against the back wall.

Setting her EMF reader on the shelf, she was surprised to see the lights flickering and flashing, indicating the presence of a spirit.

All thoughts of a ghostly presence left her head, and she sucked in her breath as Finn stepped into the closet next to her. He was so close she could feel his warm breath on her neck as he leaned in and softly spoke next to her ear. “Well, that’s one pirate that’s not getting his booty tonight.”

Nervous giggles bubbled out of her as she laughed at his silly joke. Why did he make her feel so jumpy? She was normally so calm around men, never really letting them get to her. After what happened with her husband, she knew she wouldn’t ever let herself get too close to a man again. The risk of breaking her already fragile heart was too great. That made it easy to keep them at arm’s length.

Her friends had set her up on dates, and she enjoyed getting dressed up and going to dinner or taking in a show. She even enjoyed some harmless flirting, but no one had made her pulse race or her mouth go dry. No one until this supposedly dull private eye who was looking down at her now and staring at her lips. Staring in a way that made her stomach do funny flips and her breath catch in her throat.

She looked up at him and bit her bottom lip.

He groaned and closed his eyes, then leaned his forehead against hers. “It kills me the way you bite your bottom lip like that. It makes your face go all sexy and has me imagining all sorts of things I would like to do to you to get you to make that face some more.”

She swallowed, and her nipples tightened as he leaned closer to her, pressing her back against the wall of the closet. “Yeah? Like what kind of things?”

He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, his breath hot as he ran his lips lightly along her skin. The light growth of whiskers along his chin scraped her neck and sent another shiver down her spine as she imagined those whiskers along the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His voice was quiet, teasing, as he spoke next to her ear. “You’re the psychic. Aren’t you supposed to already know?”

“Oh, you little brat.” She narrowed her eyes at him, good-naturedly laughing, and pushed gently against his chest. “You’re the private detective. Haven’t you deduced what I’m thinking? Or haven’t I given you enough clues?” She wiggled her hips against his, eliciting another groan of pleasure from him, and he pressed her tighter against the wall.

Where had this brazenly flirtatious vixen come from? She never talked to men like this. But she’d also never been pushed against a closet wall by a hunky detective on Halloween night. Maybe it was the holiday. Or the cycle of the moon. Or maybe it really was magic.

His response was a cross between a growl and a groan as he took her hand from his chest and lifted it above her head. Intertwining her fingers with his, he clasped her hand as he leaned down to kiss her. Easy and slow, taking his time, as if he were savoring the taste of her lips. He lightly raked his teeth along her bottom lip, and she moaned against his mouth.

He let go of her hand and ran his fingers lightly down her arm, along the side of her body, just grazing her breast as he went, and her insides clenched, aching with the need of this man’s touch. His hand traveled down her waist, over her hip, and he lifted her leg up and around him as he clasped her butt.

She pressed her body against him, pulling him closer with her leg and cursing the layers of clothes between them. She longed to have her skin bare against his, and contemplated the idea of getting naked on the floor of the closet.

What was wrong with her? She did not do closets, and she certainly didn’t get naked with men she barely knew. Men who flat out called her a kook and claimed she did hocus-pocus.

But Finn had also said that he liked her smile and that she made his stomach feel funny and that he ached to touch her. Holy Earth Mother. What woman could resist a man who said that he ached to touch her?

And even if her brain wouldn’t admit it, her body was most definitely telling her that she liked this man. Because her body was doing some aching of its own. Aching for his hands to pull her tighter against him, aching for the feel of his calloused palms against her stomach as he slid his fingers under the waistband of her jeans.

She was lost in his kiss, lost in his touch as his hands roamed her body. She arched against him, desperate to get closer, to feel every inch of him against her. She pulled back, her brain trying to make sense of this crazy passion she was feeling.

Her breath was ragged as she clutched him to her. “Finn, what are we doing? This is crazy.”

He tipped her chin up and looked down at her. “Honestly, I have no idea. I know it seems crazy, but it also seems exactly right. Like this stupid closet is exactly where I’m supposed to be. I always think with my head and do the rational thing, and everything about this is irrational and wild, and there’s this crazy side of me that’s wondering if you actually put a spell on me. But the other side of me doesn’t care. My heart tells me you are something special and that being with you is just where I’m supposed to be.”

She couldn’t swallow over the lump that had just formed in her throat. In fact, she couldn’t speak at all. She felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Tension swelled in her chest, and she felt as if her body might actually shatter. She gripped his shoulders as if he was a lifeboat and she was trying not to drown. Wetting her lips, she swallowed and whispered, “I’m scared.”

Finn reached up and slid his hand around her neck. He ran his thumb lightly across her cheek and smiled down at her. “Lady, you scare the hell out of me. My normal MO for Halloween night is watching a football game with a beer and a frozen pizza, and keeping the porch light out because I forgot to buy any stupid candy for the trick-or-treaters. My life is stable, ordinary, even—”

“Boring,” she finished for him with a wry grin.

“Yeah, boring. I do not do this kind of thing. I get nervous kissing a woman goodnight after a first date. But something is different with you. I feel like a horny teenager who can’t keep his hands to himself. I just want to touch you and taste you and feel you against me. Lord help me, it’s taking everything I have not to rip your clothes off and get you naked on this closet floor.”

He shook his head. “And that’s another crazy thing. I never talk like this. I think you must have put a spell on my tongue, because I keep saying out loud all the crazy things that are running through my head.”

He might be teasing her about putting a spell on his tongue, but she knew there had to be real magic in the air. His words were releasing the tight, hard ball in her chest, and she felt herself filling with a lightness she hadn’t known in years.

She knew this was a moment. One of those moments that you just needed to grab and hold on to. Forget that she was in a closet, with its weird shimmers of spiritual presence and concrete floor. Forget that she was supposed to stay strong and keep herself guarded from any kind of emotional attachment.

Forget all of that and just let go. Let go and trust Finn. She could protect her heart, stay closed off and remain alone, or she could give in and take a chance. Give in to the desires of her heart and the bone-deep need she had for this man.

Oh hell, she already had her leg wrapped around his waist — what was she waiting for? She reached up, driving her hands into his hair, and pulled his head down to hers, seizing his lips in an onslaught of fiery kisses. She poured every ounce of passion she was feeling into those kisses, holding nothing back, giving herself to him.

He reached down and lifted her, driving her back against the wall and cupping her bottom as she wrapped both legs tightly around his waist. His hands groped and squeezed, inflaming parts of her that had lain dormant, but now craved his touch. He held her up with one hand while his other skimmed her waist, sliding under her shirt and along her skin.

She arched her back, wanting to feel every part of him against her, and cursed the layers of clothing between them. He effortlessly unsnapped her bra. She gasped as he slid his hand under the lacy fabric and filled it with her breast. Her nipples pebbled into tight buds, aching with need, as he fondled and caressed.

She pulled up his shirt, desperate to touch him and reveling in the hard muscles of his chest. Knowing he had a loaded gun strapped to his shoulder only drove her wilder. He’d probably put the safety on, but not knowing upped the element of danger.

His voice in her ear, low and husky, had her insides clenching with desire. “I want you, Zia. I want you right now. You need to tell me to stop or I’m going to take you right now on the floor of this closet.”

“Don’t stop. Do not stop.” She gulped. “But maybe you should take your gun off.”

He laughed then stepped back, setting her down so he could unstrap the gun holster. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Turning to set it on the shelf, he knocked against the array of brooms and mops and they all fell against them, including a large roll of plastic. Clattering to the floor, the cleaning supplies scattered, and the roll of plastic hit the floor with a dull thud.

It landed next to Zia’s boot, and a scream bubbled to her throat as she looked down and realized the red-smeared plastic encased a dead body.

Chapter Six

What the hell had just happened? Twenty minutes ago he’d had his arms full of a curvaceous gorgeous woman and now all he had his hands full of was a dead corpse and yellow crime scene tape.

Homicide was rare in the small town of Pleasant Valley, and half of the police force had turned up to view the body, which equaled a total of about six people. And by the looks of their Halloween costumes, most of them had been off duty that night. At least, he hoped they were in costume. Otherwise, Darth Vader, Dracula, and a zombie had just showed up to the crime scene.

Mac was the lead detective and the first on the scene. He was wearing an orange t-shirt that read “This Is My Halloween Costume.” He’d cordoned off the area and just handed the yellow crime scene tape to Finn.

Mac bent down and cut enough of the plastic away to view the face of the murdered victim. Male, late sixties, greying and paunchy. Looked like the type of man who’d been married for thirty years and never missed a meatloaf dinner with his wife.

Finn had texted Jake a few minutes earlier, and was surprised when he and Sunny walked in and approached the body. He was also surprised that they were wearing matching Batman and Batgirl outfits.

“You got here fast. I just sent up the Bat-Signal.”

“We were at the Halloween party across the street,” Jake said, surveying the scene. “What happened?”

“Dude, I don’t know if I can take you seriously when you’re wearing tights.”

Jake grinned. “They came with the costume.”

“And you paid money for this?”

“We already had the costumes.”

Finn held up his hands in surrender. “I do not want to know what kind of kinky superhero stuff you two get into. At least not until I’ve had a beer or two.”

Sunny laughed. “It’s not like that. We got these costumes when we went undercover at Comic-Con last summer. They were a gift from one of your clients. But Jake definitely rocks the Batman outfit. Tights and all.”

Jake lowered his voice, imitating Batman. “I’ll take you to my Batcave later and show you the backseat of the Batmobile.”

“Seriously,” Finn said. “Dude, we’re working a case here.”

“Sorry,” Jake said, still using the deep Batman voice. He grinned then sobered as Finn gave him a look. “What have we got?”

“Dead guy. Early sixties. Had a gal come into my office earlier today claiming her husband was missing because he didn’t come home for dinner last night. She also talked to Zia, and we think this guy might be connected to that jewelry heist,” Finn said to both Jake and Mac.

Before either man could comment, a commotion by the door had them looking up to see Phyllis, the woman who had stopped by his office earlier, pressing against the outstretched arms of Darth Vader and demanding to see the corpse. Finn had a sneaking suspicion that Zia had called her after they found the body. He looked her way, arching an eyebrow, and was rewarded with a Who, me? expression and a shrug of her shoulders.

Damn. He’d been this close to having those shoulders bared and pinned to the floor under him. He still couldn’t believe he had been about to have crazy sex in a closet with a psychic. Could this night get any stranger?

He was standing next to a dead body across from his partner, who was dressed in a Batman costume, and a zombie was taking down a statement from an incredibly gorgeous woman who wanted to rip his clothes off and claimed to be able to talk to dead people. Yeah, that sounded about as strange as it could get.

Another loud ruckus at the door of the building and he looked up to see Dracula trying to hold back a tiny woman with an outrageously stuffed chest wearing a pink cowboy hat, a huge blonde wig, and orthopedic shoes.

Nope, he was wrong. This night could get stranger.

Mac waved off the officer, and the woman rushed up to him. “Edna, who the heck are you supposed to be?”

“Why, Dolly Parton, of course,” she declared in a thick Southern accent, and shimmied her chest at him.

Her shimmy made a squeaking sound, and it didn’t take much of a detective to deduce two balloons were the source of her newfound chest.

Mac held up a hand. “Don’t ever do that again or I will arrest you. What are you doing here, anyway? Do those things come with a built-in police scanner? I swear, nothing happens in this town without you hearing about it first.”

“I knew that Finn and Zia’d had some trouble over here earlier today, and I just felt that something was wrong. I am a bit of psychic myself. Well, more of an intuitive. I just feel things.”

Mac’s face remained passive as he stared at her, not saying a word.

She fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the other, causing another squeak of her balloon boobs. “Oh, all right. I was at the Halloween party across the street and saw the police cars.”

Holy crap. Was the whole town at this Halloween party across the street? An image of the lusty pirate and his busty nurse popped into Finn’s mind, and he wondered if the pirate had scored his bounty yet or if he was still looking for the treasure.

Edna pointed at Mac’s shirt and gave him a disapproving look. “Mac, I’m a little disappointed in this costume of yours. Couldn’t you have put a little effort into it? I mean, really, it’s not that hard. You could have been a cowboy or a lumberjack. I bet you could dig up a flannel shirt.” Finn figured this was a distraction technique, and he had to give the old lady props.

A cry of anguish interrupted their discussion as Phyllis looked down at the plastic-wrapped corpse. Her hands fluttered around her face as she repeated his name. “Morty. Oh no. Morty.”

Edna wrapped an arm around the woman. “I’m so sorry, honey. Was this your husband?”

Phyllis nodded as tears streaked down her face. “We’ve been married forty years, and Morty never misses a meal. I knew something was wrong when he didn’t come home for supper last night.”

“Do you know of anyone that would want to hurt your husband?”

“He was a good man. He used to run with some shady fellows, but he got away from that life when the kids were little. One of the old guys, Stan, just got out of prison and had been hanging around lately. I told Morty not to get mixed up with those old guys again, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Men never listen.” Edna patted her shoulder. “What kind of trouble were they getting into, honey?”

“I’m not sure. Stan would come over and they would go down in the basement. I tried to listen at the door, and I think it had something to do with a jewelry store. Morty had been really jumpy lately, but when I asked him about what was going on, he said he was fine, just taking care of some business.”

“What kind of business do you think it was?”

Mac cleared his throat. “Edna, you do realize that I actually work for the police? And there are two private investigators standing here as well. Would it be all right with you if one of us asked a question?” He looked at Finn and Jake for support.

Finn shrugged. “I thought she was doing all right on her own. I was about to add her to the payroll.”

Mac rolled his eyes and took Phyllis by the elbow, leading her away from the corpse of her husband. “Ma’am, why don’t you come over here and have a seat and I’ll take your statement.”

“Poor Phyllis. I had a bad feeling about her husband when she was here earlier today.” Zia had crossed the room and now stood by Finn’s shoulder.

“Did you have a bad feeling like maybe his corpse was in the closet next to us?” Finn asked. “That would have been a helpful feeling.”

“I did have a bad feeling when we were in the closet, but I couldn’t focus because I was being distracted.”

“What were you guys doing in the closet?” Jake asked.

Edna leaned in, her nosy radar on high. “And what was distracting you?”

Warmth spread up Finn’s neck, and he actually felt flustered. “Nothing. We caught a couple in the closet making out. A guy dressed like a pirate and a gal in a naughty nurse costume. They were drunk and had come from the same party that evidently half the town is at tonight.”

“Yeah, I saw those guys earlier. Well, I saw the naughty nurse. She might have been with a pirate. I didn’t notice much beyond her medical enhancements.” Jake laughed and earned a slug in the ribs from Sunny.

The medical examiner walked in the front door and headed for the body. He was dressed like the Grim Reaper, and pushed a stretcher in front of him. He nodded at Finn. “Looks like this guy got the trick instead of the treat.”

“Nice costume, Bob. Very fitting.” Finn waved a hand at the front door. “I suppose you were at the party across the street.”

Bob, or Grim, nodded. “Oh yeah. The place is hopping. I think the whole town is over there.”

“I think you’re right.”

It took the Grim Reaper about fifteen minutes to load the body and wheel it out the door. The police finished up and left a short time later.

Mac left Phyllis with Edna and crossed the room to shake Finn’s hand. “I’ve done all I can tonight. We’ll lock down the place and I’ll get some guys over here again tomorrow to see if they can dig anything else up. I’m going to head back to the station. See if I can connect Morty up to the robbery at the jewelry store and try to track down this Stan friend of his. Phyllis gave me a good description, and if he just got out of lockup, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out who he is.”

The officer waved at Sunny and Zia then shook hands with Jake. “Thanks for coming over, Batman. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re protecting our fair city.” He nodded at Finn. “I’ll be by tomorrow.”

“Okay, listen up,” Zia said as the building door shut behind Mac. She pointed at Finn. “We tried it your way and did the whole stakeout thing. Now let’s try it mine. I know Morty’s spirit is in this building. That’s why my EMF reader was going crazy. I think he’s the one responsible for trashing our offices, and his spirit is staying here because it’s trying to tell us something.”

“How do you figure his ghost is the one who trashed our offices? If he was in cahoots with this Stan guy, then maybe he was the one who wrecked them. It seems a mighty big stretch to go from a dead body to a vandalizing ghost. Besides, we don’t even know if Morty was involved in the robbery of the jewelry store.”

“Yes, we do.” Edna appeared next to Zia, her arm wrapped around Phyllis’s waist. “Phyllis just told me the whole story. Tell them what you told me.”

Phyllis stared at the floor, wringing her hands.

“It’s okay, honey,” Edna assured her. “You can trust them. They’re good people.”

“Morty was a good man. He just made some bad decisions,” Phyllis stammered.

“What kind of decisions?” Finn asked. “Like deciding to rob a jewelry store?”

She nodded, her lips trembling. “It was all that bastard Stan’s idea. Morty and I were doing just fine. Our kids were grown and gone and we were settling into a nice life. Morty had finally earned his pension and was getting ready to retire. We were thinking of going on a cruise in the spring. Then Stan got out of prison and started hanging around again, filling Morty’s head with all these ideas.”

“Ideas like robbing a jewelry store?” Finn coaxed, earning an exaggerated sigh from Zia.

“Stan had this whole plan. He said he knew the night guard at a jewelry store who could get them in and out and knew the security codes. He had a guy who could fence the stolen jewelry, and he convinced Morty it would be an easy job. In and out, no problem.”

“But there was a problem?” Zia asked.

“With Stan, there’s always a problem. They pulled off the heist and everything seemed fine until the night guard turned up dead the next day. Morty finally told me what was going on, because he was worried Stan had taken out the guard and was coming after him next. Morty was holding on to the stolen goods, and he told me they’d taken a large stash of diamonds.”

“I knew it,” Zia said. “I knew I saw diamonds.”

Finn raised an eyebrow at her but wisely kept silent.

“I tried to convince Morty to turn them in, but he didn’t want to go to the police. I told him that I’d seen Finney’s private eye business across from Zia’s when I’d been here for a reading, and suggested he come see you and maybe you could help him return the jewels anonymously and offer him some protection from Stan.”

“A guy called and made an appointment with me last night, but I was late and I missed him,” Finn said. “That could have been Morty. Maybe Stan followed him here and tried to collect the diamonds. If Morty didn’t have them or wouldn’t tell him where they were, he may have killed him and trashed our offices looking for the stolen jewels. That’s just a theory that I’m coming up with by using logic and deduction.” He looked at Zia. “I don’t have any magic feelings about what happened or any psychic visions of a bloody room.”

A hurt look crossed Zia’s face. Okay, that was kind of an asshole comment. Why was he being so hard on her? An hour ago, he couldn’t get enough of her, and now he was falling back into those feelings of doubt.

He reached down and took her hand in his, entwining their fingers and giving hers a reassuring squeeze. He leaned his head down toward her ear and softened his tone. “Sorry, that was out of line. Old dog and all that.”

He was sure the others were watching and curious as to why he was holding hands with the psychic next door, but he really didn’t care. The feeling of warmth that filled him when he clasped her hand and the smile she rewarded him with now were worth whatever ribbing he would get from Jake later.

“I think there’s only one way to find out the answer for sure,” Zia said.

He nodded. “Right. We need to track down this Stan guy and get him to talk.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. We need to get the answers from the source. See what Morty has to tell us about his murder.”

“That would be great, except he’s dead.” The sarcastic tone snuck back in, followed by the realization that she was seriously discussing talking to the dead guy.

Uh oh. He didn’t like where this was headed.

“Yes, but that’s what I do. I can sometimes communicate with dead people.”

Finn squeezed her hand again, determined to hold the connection between them, and tried his best not to roll his eyes. How did she plan on talking to this dead guy? Send him an email? Was there a spiritual information highway? Maybe she could call him. Maybe instead of cell service, she had soul service and she could just dial up 1-800-Ghost-Chat.

“I think we should hold a séance and see if we can’t connect to Morty’s spirit. His body just left the building and we’re half an hour away from the stroke of midnight on Halloween night. The timing couldn’t be better.”

“I think that’s a great idea. Can I be part of it?” Edna asked, practically rubbing her hands together in glee.

Zia nodded. “I need you all to be part of it. There’s magic in the number six, so I will need all of you. And Phyllis, you’re the most connected to the spirit through the strongest bond, which is love. Would you be up to trying to connect with Morty’s spirit?”

Phyllis nodded. “Of course. I would do anything to talk to Morty one more time. To tell him that I love him and I’m sorry that I yelled at him about putting his socks in the hamper the last day I saw him alive.”

Edna patted her arm. “Don’t worry about that, honey. I’m sure he wouldn’t even remember you mentioning the clothes hamper. Men are like dogs: they forget easily. They just remember that you feed them, give them a warm place to sleep, and rub their bellies once in a while.”

Hmmm. She had a point. Finn gave the Batcouple a questioning look.

Jake shrugged. “I’m always game for trying a new experience.” He looked down at Sunny. “How about you, Batgirl? Do you believe in all this ghosty stuff?”

“I’m not exactly sure. I’ve never seen proof, but I’m open to the idea. I’ve lost enough people that I like to believe they could be around us, watching over their loved ones. I’m game for a séance.”

“Great,” Zia said. “We need to hurry, though, because it’s creeping closer to midnight.”

Did she have to say creeping? This whole thing was creeping Finn out. He tried to control the shiver that threatened to race up his back as the group followed Zia to her office.

She stopped in front of the door and turned back to give the group directions. “We can use my office. Finn and Jake can set up the table and chairs while I gather some things together. Phyllis, do you have anything of Morty’s with you? Anything that belonged to him or that he might have touched?”

Phyllis opened her handbag and dug through the contents. She held up a wadded white handkerchief. “How about this? He handed me his hanky after I sneezed in church last weekend, and I threw it in my purse to wash for him later.”

Zia smiled at her and led them into her office. “That will be perfect.”

Great. This morning he was headed into work, minding his own business. He had the newspaper to read and a cup of coffee to drink. Plain old black coffee. His life was simple.

Now he was sipping fancy pumpkin-flavored coffee, talking about ghosts, and following the gorgeous, round ass of a woman who made his heart pound and who told him she thought he was kind of sexy right before she kissed him senseless.

If all that wasn’t unbelievable enough, he was getting ready to participate in a séance with Batman and Dolly Parton, and they were going to channel the dead guy’s spirit through a snot-filled handkerchief.

While trying to stay open-minded, he felt like he’d been approaching this unknown door that was slightly ajar and he was just going to peek in, check out what was inside. Instead, the door had been flung wide open and he was being ushered inside and literally sitting down at the table in Spooksville.

We are only afraid of what we don’t understand. He’d read that somewhere. Was that what was happening? Was he afraid? Afraid of a ghost? Hmm. Maybe. He sure as hell was afraid of this thing happening with Zia.

There was only one thing to do: go give it a try. Both with Zia and the séance. The only way he would know for sure if ghosts were real was if they tried to communicate with one, and the only way he would know if this thing with Zia was real was if he tried. If he handed her his heart and took the chance that she wouldn’t break it.

He followed Zia into the office, stopping to hold the door open for Edna and Phyllis to enter. “Where do you want us to start?”

She pointed to the closet. “There’s a round table and folding chairs in that closet. You and Jake set that up. Sunny, grab that big, chunky purple candle off the shelf and put it in the center of the table.”

“What can I do?” Edna asked. “You want me to get out the spell book and start collecting ingredients? Do you have any eye of newt? They always have that in secret spells.”

“No. I’m not casting any spells. We’re trying to communicate with Morty’s spirit, not bring him back from the dead.”

“All right. All right,” Edna mumbled as she wandered over to the shelves and began searching through the boxes and jars of herbs Zia used for healing and therapy.

Within minutes, they had the table set up and were circled around it. Zia had spread out a rich blue velvet tablecloth, and Sunny set Morty’s handkerchief and the chunky candle in the middle. She lit the wick with a long-tipped lighter and set it on the table, while Zia turned out the office lights and directed everyone to sit down.

“I need everyone to be quiet, and please turn off your cell phones. We don’t want to be interrupted in a crucial moment of communication.”

“What if the ghost tries to call us and we have our phones off?” Finn’s snide remark was met with silence. He turned off his phone and slid it into his pocket then sat down.

“We all need to stay in the circle the whole time. If someone gets up and leaves, it can break the spiritual connection. Does anyone need to use the restroom before we start?”

“No,” Edna said. “But I might need to if a ghost really does show up.”

Finn sat with Zia on his right and Sunny on his left. Jake sat next to Sunny, and then Edna, and Phyllis completed the circle sitting on the other side of Zia.

Zia smiled at the group. “Take the hand of the person next to you. We want to begin with a prayer to protect us from angry or evil spirits, and ask that only well-intentioned spirits join our circle tonight.”

“Yeah, we don’t want any random angry spirits showing up,” Finn said. “This is a high-class séance and only well-behaved ghosts are invited.”

Zia dropped his hand and gave him a stern look. “Look, Finn, this is only going to work if we have the positive energy of every person in this circle. If only one person is a skeptic, they can act like a sinker and drain the whole group of its energy. We’re running out of time, and you need to decide if you’re in or you’re out. Six is the optimal number, but we can do this without you.”

Was he in or was he out? Now was his chance to make a choice. He blew out a breath. “Okay, I’m in. Sorry. I’ll shut up and try my best to convey only positive energy.”

She grinned at him, and his breath caught as he was struck by the beauty of her smile. Yeah, he was in, all right. Ghost or no ghost, he wanted this woman in his life. And if that meant he had to shut up and think welcoming thoughts to Casper, then that seemed like a pretty simple price to pay.

Zia picked up his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She closed her eyes and lowered her voice. “Morty, we gather here tonight in hope that we will receive a sign of your presence. Our circle is open and we welcome you to join us.”

A few long seconds passed, then a loud thump sounded in the back of the room. Sunny jumped and let out a nervous giggle then cleared her throat and resumed watch.

The room was dark except for the small circle of candlelight that reflected each of their faces. Zia spoke again, calm and encouraging. “Morty, if you’re here with us, please give us a sign.” The candlelight flickered and the temperature of the room seemed to drop ten degrees. “Phyllis, you knew Morty and loved him. Please take this time to think warm thoughts about him, fill your heart with all the love you have for him, and fill your mind with good memories of time spent with him.

“Morty, if you’re in the room with us, please signal twice for a yes answer,” Zia instructed.

A loud rap sounded on the center of the table, and seconds later another rap signaled the presence of the spirit.

Holy crap. Was this really happening? Maybe one of the others was tapping the table with their leg. Finn looked around the table, but all the faces looked as stunned as he felt.

Zia continued to ask the spirit questions. “We want to help you. To understand what happened. Were you killed in this room?”

The loud rap sounded again, this time twice in quick succession.

“Do you know who shot you?”

Suddenly the room went crazy. Cabinet doors opened and slammed shut, books flew off the shelves, and a loud wind filled the room, blowing out the candle and leaving them in pitch blackness. The sound of a door opening and closing could be heard in the dark. The distinct smell of garlic and salami filled the room.

Finn dropped Zia’s hand and fumbled for the lighter. Before he could find it on the table, the candle relit itself, the wick sparking into a tiny flame.

What the hell?

The sound of a woman weeping sent chills down Finn’s spine. He looked around and realized it was Phyllis. She hadn’t let go of Edna or Zia’s hands, but her chin dropped to her chest as she wept quietly. “Morty loved meeting the guys down at Sal’s deli for lunch. It’s almost as if I can smell an Italian hoagie. It was his favorite sandwich.”

“Morty, are you still with us?” Zia asked, her composure calm and confident.

Two quick knocks on the table.

“Was it Stan? Was he the one who shot you?”

Another two knocks, and Edna gasped.

It seemed like a given that Stan would have been the one to shoot him. Happened all the time — partners in crime double-crossed each other.

A new sound filled the air, one that sent a different but just as chilling shiver down Finn’s spine. The sound of a gun being cocked.

The sound came from Finn’s right, and he turned to see a hand holding a gun at Zia’s temple. The rest of the hand’s body was swallowed up in the darkness of the room. Finn’s detective skills went on alert, observing every second, judging the assailant’s height by the direction of the gun. The scent of garlic and salami wafted nearer, and Finn guessed Morty wasn’t the only one who loved the Italian hoagie.

“It’s no surprise who shot him,” an unfamiliar male voice spoke from the darkness. “Why don’t you ask him the more important question — like where he hid the diamonds?”

“Stan! You rotten son-of-a-bitch!” Phyllis swore. She bucked against the table, but Edna held her hand tightly.

“Look,” Stan said, “I don’t want no trouble. I just came for the diamonds. I know Morty had ’em when he came in here last night, but I searched him after I shot him, and they weren’t on him. So they must be hid in one of these offices. Those diamonds belong to me.” He called out into the room, “Where’d you hide the jewels, you bastard?”

The room went into bedlam again, but ratcheted up ten more notches. Books and jars flew from the shelves, the wind howled, and the ceiling light flickered on and off. But those few seconds of light were all Finn needed to see Stan positioned behind Zia’s chair, the gun held high in his outstretched hand.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Finn flung himself at Stan, knocking the gun from his hand and tackling him to the ground. Within seconds, the lights flipped on, this time by a human hand, as Sunny stood by the switch. Jake, a.k.a. Batman, grabbed for the gun and held it trained on Stan.

“All right,” Stan wheezed. “Don’t shoot.”

The door of Zia’s office flew open and Officer McCarthy burst in, gun in hand. Another officer followed close behind, his gun also drawn.

“It’s okay, Mac. We got him,” Finn said. “But nice timing.”

Mac holstered his gun and gestured to the other officer, who bent at Finn’s side and slapped handcuffs on Stan’s wrists. “We located Stan and put a tail on him, but he lost us. We figured he was headed this way. I tried to call you to let you know, but your cell phone must be off. I had no idea you all would still be here.”

Finn turned to Zia, who shrugged and offered him a sheepish look.

“We heard him confess to shooting Morty,” Finn told Mac. “But I wish we knew what happened to the diamonds. That would tie him to the robbery and seal the conviction.”

The lights flickered again, a cold chill settled into the room, and a big glass jar slid off the counter. It shattered as it hit the ground and spilled colored velvet bags across the floor.

Sunny let out a shriek, but Zia bent to the floor, examining the bags. “The bags in this jar are full of crystals or herbs used for healing or love spells. I handmade all of them.” She held up a black velvet bag. “All except this one.” She pulled open the drawstring and tipped the bag up, spilling a cascade of glittering diamonds into her hand.

The cold chill left the air, and the group stared at the diamonds in silence.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Stan said. “That son of a bitch hid ’em right out in plain sight. I must have walked by that jar twenty times when I was tossing this place.”

Mac took Stan by the arm and led him to the door. “Hope they didn’t give your cell away to a new tenant, because you’re headed back to lock-up.” He passed him off to the other officer to drive down to the station while he stayed to take their statements. He shook his head in disbelief as they all told the same unbelievable tale.

Once finished, he offered Phyllis a ride home. Jake collected Sunny and Edna and told Finn he’d be back tomorrow to help him sort everything out.

The door clicked shut behind them, and all that was left were Finn and Zia. The previously close-minded detective and the sexy psychic.

He raised an eyebrow at Zia. “See, I was right. I told you a person had trashed our offices.”

She put a hand on her hip and sighed. “Is that really the argument you want to go with? After everything that happened here tonight? You’re still going to claim there are no ghosts?”

He laughed. “I didn’t say that. I just said I was right about the offices. After this crazy night, I need to be right about something.”

She slowly walked toward him, a smoldering look in her eye. “It seems to me you were exactly right earlier tonight when you had your lips pressed against mine.”

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him. “I do enjoy being right.” Tilting her face up, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Happy Halloween.”

“Happy crazy Halloween. What a night.” She grinned. “Still think I put a spell on you?”

He shrugged. “Don’t care. If you did, I hope you don’t take it off. I like you and I like us together.”

“Can you handle our differences? Keep an open mind about my work and what I do?”

“Hey, I already tried a pumpkin spice latte and participated in a séance — what else do you want from me?”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid a kiss against his neck. In a husky voice, she replied, “Oh, you’ve only begun to see what I want from you.”

Oh boy.

“Is that a prediction of what’s in store for me?”

She gave him a suggestive look. “I don’t need tarot cards to read what’s in store for you.”

He liked the way she thought. In fact, he’d like to hear a few more of those thoughts. Except not in a closet with a dead body as an audience. It was time he took Miss Zia home and shared a few of his own predictions.

He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips before offering her a mischievous grin. “Well, I don’t have a crystal ball and I’m no psychic, but I definitely see you in my future. All of you.

Jennie Marts loves to make readers laugh as she weaves stories filled with love, friendship and intrigue. Jennie writes for Entangled Publishing and she’s the Kindle Bestselling author of the Page Turners series, which includes the romantic comedies: Another Saturday Night and I Ain’t Got No Body, Easy Like Sunday Mourning, and Just Another Maniac Monday. Readers first met the characters in A Halloween Hookup in Book 1 of this series.

Jennie is living her own happily ever after in the mountains of Colorado with her husband, two sons, and two dogs whose antics often find a way into her books.

Jennie is addicted to Diet Coke, adores Cheetos, and believes you can’t have too many books, shoes or friends.

Jennie loves to hear from readers.

Follow her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/JennieMartsBooks

Twitter at @JennieMarts, or Goodreads.

Visit her at www.jenniemarts.com and subscribe to her newsletter for the latest on new releases and to find out the current happenings with the Pleasant Valley Page Turners.