章 9: Chapter 9
Alice down the rabbit hole. Any second now, the Mad Hatter would show up for a tea party. Ava fell with dizzying speed, and without her feet leaving the ground.
She'd just been thinking a few weeks ago how she hadn't had a great kiss in way too long. Truth of the matter was, she'd never been kissed like this. Tender, yet possessive. Cradled in a cocoon of embodiment where she and she alone was the sole detail for which he concentrated. He said he wanted her and he wanted to get to know her better by the attention to detail. And that he seemed to like what she was telling him in return. Then again, a man such as Jackson had more than enough practice.
She gripped his shoulders for balance, to maintain equilibrium, which apparently was the catalyst to trip him over the ledge to spiral with her. He groaned, snaking an arm behind her back and tugging her against the hard wall of his chest. He tilted his head for a better angle, a deeper one, and she closed the book on great. Great kissing was not in Jackson's vocabulary. Exceptional, maybe. Expert, perhaps.
His lips were full, firm, the contact no longer brushing in a tease. Because she had to, in order to stay sane, she took over, sliding her tongue across his bottom lip. She angled her head the other way and dove in. He opened at once, offered no resistance, letting her take charge and melding his tongue to hers. Dancing, mating. A fuse inside her lit, a spark that had been merely lying in wait for its counterpart to ignite.
Her skin tingled, and not from the cold outside. Slithering of currents, long-ago attraction, resurfaced and zinged through her system. He was warm. So, so warm. Familiar, but he couldn't be. There was safety in his embrace. Security. Nothing would happen to her if they stayed like this, if she stayed with him.
What was happening?
Oh God. She broke away, light-headed, and stared at him while sucking oxygen. One kiss and she was thinking like a lunatic. Had gray fogging her peripheral and the ground unstable.
Breaths soughing, he had the nerve to look rattled also. Wide blue eyes beseeching hers, furrowed brow, lips parted in surprise. His body grew more taut the longer they remained there, tensed against hers like he was ready to snap. As if she'd decimated him with the kiss and not the other way around, had blown his gray matter so far into the ether, he'd lost sense of who he was for a fragment of time.
She had to wonder if his reaction was an act, and if so, how many females before her had fallen for it?
"Date over," he rasped. "Consider yourself walked to the door properly."
He still had that flustered look about him, which confused and pissed her off equally. "We weren't on a date."
"Don't throw logic in here. You'll ruin the mood."
His cell buzzed in his back pocket. He kept staring at her as if not aware.
Now what? "Are you going to get that?"
He blinked, stepped away, and pulled his cell out of his jeans in one fluid motion, yet his gaze never left hers. "Yeah." He frowned while he listened to the caller and, finally, looked elsewhere in the distance. Seconds ticked by. "That's the story my family told as well. Right. We'll talk soon."
Head bowed, he swallowed and took yet another step in retreat. "That was Paul. The research he found on the Kerricks matches your story. John and Margaret Kerrick returned to England without Sarah."
With the sun having set and them no longer sharing body heat, she shivered. There was a bite to the crisp air, tinged with salt from the sea and burning leaves from one of the neighbors. Stars winked overhead. An owl hooted and the roar of waves crashing against rocks from the other side of the bluff were the only sounds in the deafening quiet.
Until car doors opened and slammed near the front of the house.
"The crew's back," she said unnecessarily.
He pinned her with something close to righteous indignation in his gaze. "That did just happen. We just kissed."
What was that supposed to mean? "And?"
The crew's voices drew closer, but he kept staring at her with avid determination like he didn't care they were about to have an audience. "Don't pretend it didn't. You felt it, too."
She wasn't pretending anything. And if he was talking about the insane chemistry, then yeah, she'd felt it. Not that she'd admit it to him. Something in the pit of her stomach said that's not what he was referring to, though.
From the second she'd spotted him on her front lawn a few days ago, something had clicked between them. Almost like they'd once had a forced separation and she'd caught a glimpse of that former connection. Which was crazy. And not possible. To boot, there had been...feelings. Ones that had made zero sense in relation to a guy she'd never laid eyes on before. Not heat. Not tension. Both. And an underlying sentiment she couldn't place. She supposed if she had to put a name to it, it would resemble fondness or understanding. Remembrance.
They'd come and gone so swiftly at the time. Every instance they'd happened. There and poof. But when he'd kissed her just now, being in his arms had been like reconciling with an old lover, returning to a dear friend.
God, she was going freaking crazy. She squared her shoulders, looked him dead on. "It won't happen again."
A jut of his chin, and he took a step forward. "Why not?"
For a guy who seemed as shell-shocked as her, he was putting up quite the fight.
She had a billion reasons not to get involved with him. Her mouth spilled one before she could filter first. "I will not be one of your many conquests."
His usually humorous features smoothed into a hard, dangerous expression. "You think you've got me pegged, Ava? Think you know me, do you? News flash. You don't."
The back door opened behind her and Sammy poked her head out.
"There you are. Did something happen out here?"
Ava figured Sammy meant did anything paranormal happen, but Jackson's gaze never left Ava's, still seething with tension and daring her to challenge him, and it was grating her nerves.
"No," she answered Sammy, holding Jackson's gaze, then turned to head inside. "Nothing happened."
*~*~*
Sammy no sooner cleared the threshold when Ava slammed the back door behind her.
A pause, and Sammy's brows darted to her hairline. "What's going on, Jacks?"
Hell if he knew. He sucked in a breath and ran his hand down his face as if that would wipe away the memory of their kiss.
Deciding to be honest, and damn, he needed to talk about it, he looked at his best friend. "I kissed her."
Sammy crossed her arms. "It's not like you to get personally involved with the...cases."
"No, it's not."
"And it's definitely not like you to get upset over a kiss."
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he hung his head. "No."
She ducked and forced him to look at her. "What's going on?"
Trying to put the situation into words caused the pressure in his chest to expand. He'd kissed a woman he'd just met a couple days ago, and had known every aspect of the kiss as if they'd done it before. Known her reaction, how she'd respond, and how good it would be. And to make the whole damn thing even more maddening, he'd had to do it, as if by no choice of his own. Both because of the overwhelming attraction he'd developed for her and because of some odd magnetic pull he couldn't explain. Like kissing her had become a necessary sustenance.
"Something's wrong with me."
Sammy didn't joke, as he would've grown to expect. Instead, she ran her hands down his arms in an odd-for-her soothing gesture. "You're scaring me."
Lovely. "I'm scaring myself."
"Is this place getting to you? Do you need to leave? You know the history with men in this house-"
"No," he said quickly. Probably too quickly, but he was certain on this point. "I don't feel threatened. I don't know what I feel, but threatened isn't it."
Her pained and concerned expression snapped him into dropping the subject. He forced a grin and wrapped her in a hug. A hug he needed more than her. Sammy was solid, familiar in a way he could logically relate to.
"I'm okay. Leave it to a woman to mess with a guy's head."
She laughed and drew away, craning her neck to stare up at him since she was pint-sized. "Sure, blame women. Are you sure that's all it is?"
No. "I'm sure." For good measure, he gently tugged on a strand of her short black hair.
"I probably shouldn't point out that Jackson Granger doesn't let women mess with his head. Met your match, have you?"
Perhaps it was just the challenge of Ava herself-a woman who clearly didn't like the idea of someone such as him or what he represented. Or that she somehow symbolized everything he suddenly wanted from life-stability, direction, family. Perhaps it was just nostalgia over his-maybe-last case.
Whatever the reason, he'd get through the next few weeks and move on.
Simple as that.
*~*~*
Ava knew she was dreaming, just as surely as she knew something was wrong. She paced the cliffs outside her home in a nightgown she'd never worn, nor owned, waiting for someone. She didn't know who.
The moon was full and bright, illuminating the choppy sea in the distance across the horizon and the yard. The fieldstone wall wasn't there in the dream, so nothing separated her from the thousand feet of jagged cliffs. Two houses stood side-by-side at her back. Both seemed to be watching her.
Footsteps fell from behind. Light, faintly over the lawn.
She turned, but there was no one.
The Trumble mansion was as dark inside as outside. The family-her family-slept. Candlelight flickered through two windows of the other house, one upstairs, one on the main floor. The Kerrick house, a direct mirror of the Trumble.
She focused on the second story and squinted at the illuminated pane. A man watched her. Just a shadow of him, really. Barely discernable if not for...cold steel and hatred in his eyes.
The breath ripped from her lungs. A scream wedged in her throat.
She blinked and opened her eyes, gaze darting around her familiar bedroom.
A lavender scent rose over the summer breeze, now fading as the dream had started to do. Panting, Ava slumped against her pillow.
She rarely dreamed, or if she did, hardly remembered them. This one had been so vivid, so clear. And she'd never seen the Kerrick house. It had been torn down by Peter Trumble two hundred years ago. To her knowledge, there were no likenesses of it anywhere. What made her dream about it? Why had she been standing by the cliffs? In summer, no less.
Sitting up, she shoved off the covers. She wouldn't sleep until her heart rate calmed, so she slid her feet into slippers and headed downstairs to brew a cup of chamomile.
At the base of the steps, she waved to the still camera so Amir or Terrance would know she wasn't sleepwalking when they checked the feed in the morning. She rounded the banister, out of sight of the camera, and...plowed into a wall.
What on earth?
Not a wall, a chest. A bare, lightly dusted with black hair, muscled chest. Without glancing up, she knew it was Jackson. She recognized the ridges of hard muscles flush against her. Recognized his distinct male scent-a cross between alpine and a trace of citrus.
He grabbed her upper arms to steady her and met her gaze. The bluest eyes in all creation, framed by thick black lashes. "You all right?"
No, she absolutely was not. He smelled good. And looked good. And, damn it, felt good. "Yes. Sorry. I wasn't expecting anyone else to be awake."
Because they were both so close to the top stair, he stepped down, putting them at eye level. "I couldn't sleep."
"I had a nightmare."
He still hadn't let go of her arms. The heat from his hands didn't seem to stop her from shivering.
"Does that happen often? Nightmares?"
She kept her gaze trained to his concerned eyes when everything inside screamed to look at his mouth, remember the kiss. "Um, no. I don't dream usually."
He dropped his arms, severing the connection, and stepped to her side, then behind her on the top stair, forcing her to turn around to look at him.
There was an unmistakable desire in his eyes, a flick of heat that hadn't been present a second ago. He swallowed, and she followed the movement, dying to kiss his throat over the dark stubble. Bury her face in his neck and...
"You look lovely like this," he said, barely a whisper.
She blinked, not following his words through the drum of her heartbeat.
He lifted a finger, trailed it down her cheek, across her jaw, and to her collarbone. A light touch, tender, as if she were a treasure. His treasure. Her breasts swelled, tightening against her pajama top at his caress.
"Your face is fresh, your hair wild and untamed without a clip. I like you like this, Ava."
Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over hers. Not a kiss, exactly, but enough to have her all but begging. A charge zinged in her belly as their breaths mingled. She reached up to draw him closer-
A frigid, arctic blast of air shifted between them. Her body froze on impact, her unable to move through the confusion. The blood in her veins slowed, cooled, stalled.
Anger-whose, she didn't know-penetrated her skull, shifted in her chest. An assault of rage that clearly had no clout.
Jackson's eyes widened a mere fraction of a second before...he went flying backward, legs straight out in front of him like he'd been shoved too fast for his limbs to catch up. Clear across the landing, he flew, and right into one of the bedroom doors with a sickening thud. He slid to the floor in a heap, grasping his chest.
"Oh God." She rushed over and knelt in front of him, panic a hot ball in her throat. "Are you hurt?" Concern wrenched her belly.
Several of the bedroom doors opened as the crew members emerged, including the one at Jackson's back.
She grabbed his shoulders before he could tip backward. "You're freezing. Someone get me a blanket please." As in, hypothermia. Which couldn't be possible.
Kerry handed over a fleece throw from one of the guestrooms, which Ava draped over his chest.
Thankfully, that seemed to snap him back. His eyes cleared and his gaze sought hers. In them, her own fear and shock mirrored back.
"What happened?" Sammy squatted, slipping two fingers to Jackson's neck and glancing at her watch on the other wrist.
Minus the almost kiss, Ava told them what had occurred. "What is that, like ten feet? He flew that far! I've never been touched by one of the spirits before. Whoever this was, they were angry. I mean, wrath-of-God pissed off."
The thrum of anger still simmered in her chest, making her limbs tremble. Anger not her own and, seemingly, not Jackson's.
"Take slow, even breaths, Jacks," Sammy cooed. "Your pulse is through the roof."
He nodded and followed her orders.
Terrance ran a hand over his short dark hair. "Show me where you were when it happened."
Ava rose and positioned Terrance where Jackson had been standing, then took her place from before as the crew watched. "I felt a cold draft, I guess you could say, and then he just...catapulted toward the door."
Amir eyed the camera. "You were out of the shot, but maybe it caught part of Jackson."
Jackson got to his feet and switched off the camera. "I was about to kiss her."
The crew froze and stared, wide-eyed.
She clenched her fists, glaring at him. Was he kidding?
"Sorry, luv. We're not recording right now." Jackson sucked in a breath and looked at Sammy. "Ava and I kissed out by the back door earlier tonight. I can't speak for her, but I felt like we'd done so before."
Heads whipped to face Ava.
She swallowed, torn between a livid anger and chilling panic. Logically, she understood now why he'd spoken up, but what had happened outside and just moments ago was personal. Private. She hadn't called in Phantoms to collect a red rose and marry the most eligible bachelor. She didn't want her love life broadcasted on primetime television.
"I felt the same thing." May as well tell the truth since Lord Loud Mouth had already outed them.
"Just now," Jackson went on, "I was about to kiss her again when I got shoved."
"Shit." Sammy turned the camera back on. "Meeting in the library. Now."
Ava said she'd meet them downstairs after she brewed a pot of tea. While the kettle heated on the stove in the kitchen, she set a bowl of sugar and teacups on a tray to take to the others. When the water was hot, she poured it into her pot to steep and, tray in hands, headed for the library.
Halfway there, shouting from the crew members echoed down the hall, and she quickened her pace.
"And I'm saying you need to leave!" Sammy was in Jackson's face in the center of the room, looking wicked fierce and tiny by comparison.
Ava paused in the doorway, wondering why they were arguing. "What's going on? Who's leaving?"
Sammy whirled on her, short black strands flying. "Jackson, if I have any say in the matter."
He made a slashing motion. "I'm not going."
"Jacks, if you had been one step closer to the staircase..." She sighed, shaking her head, shoulders sagging. "God."
He looked at Ava as if thinking the same thing-if he'd still been on the step, like he had been when she'd first bumped into him, they both would've gone down. The whole grand set of stairs. Down.
It had waited. It had wait for him to move. The spirit hadn't wanted her hurt. Just Jackson.
Her stomach bottomed out. The tray in her hands shook.
Jackson stalked the two paces and took it from her, setting it on the coffee table.
"Sit down, luv. You're pale." He poured her a cup of tea and added one spoon of sugar, holding it out for her.
How did he know she liked her tea that way?
A sound of exasperation, and he set the cup on the table when she didn't reach for it.
She plopped next to Kerry on the couch and clutched her shaking hands together, her mind a riot. "I don't want anyone to get hurt. The stories about the mansion, the history? They were just that. Stories. But if they're true, you could get hurt. Any of you."
"Exactly," Sammy bellowed, throwing her hand up in emphasis.
Jackson ignored her, instead staring Ava down like picking apart a riddle. "What was your dream about?"
Huh? "What?"
"You woke up from a nightmare tonight. What was it about?"
She slowly shook her head. "What does a stupid dream have to do with you getting shoved into a door?"
Calmly, he smiled at her, and it was this side of patronizing. "You said you don't dream often. It could mean something."
Heads turned to her in this ping pong match, so she waved her hand and relayed what she could remember of the dream. When finished, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, cold all over again.
Silence enclosed the room.
"Memories?" Amir asked after a long spell. "Is it possible to have memories not her own?"
"It was just a dream," she protested.
Sammy sat in the computer chair and hunched over. "Lee said he felt two active spirits here. We need to try to figure out who they are." She straightened and looked at each of them. "Ava needs to be a participant in the investigation. They're trying to tell her something. And one or both might feel Jackson's in the way."
Okay. Progress.
"I can help," Ava said. "Whatever you need me to do."
Jackson crossed his arms and widened his stance. "We need to stick together since we get the most activity. You'll investigate with me and Sammy."
"Yeah, um, that's another issue." Terrance raised his hand from his perch in the corner folding chair. "There's two ways we can do this. One, we could play up your romance on camera. Or two, we can shrug it off and pretend it's a coincidence. Problem with option two is the editing team is going to have a hard time explaining the activity."
"There is no romance." They all looked at Ava like she'd started levitating. "This is not up for discussion. I draw the line at that. There is no romance. One kiss does not make a relationship."
Jackson pinned her with a seething glare, mouth firm, jaw muscles clenched. He all but dared her to claim what they had was false. Seemed like he wanted to close the distance between them and shake sense into her. She raised her chin in defiance, holding her ground.
After a very long, tense silence, Kerry patted her hand. "Okay, Ava. Why don't we use the Kerrick angle?" She addressed the others. "Jackson has Kerrick blood, Ava has Trumble. When they're together, things happen."
Sammy nodded. "That should work. Tom, Earl, get your cameras. We'll tape a short snippet on the stairs as if discussing the incident."
The crew dispersed except for Sammy, Ava, and Jackson.
Sammy turned to them. "I don't care what is or isn't going on between you two. But you need to consider your bloodlines. It's possible you're being manipulated, made to feel something that's not there. I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried."
"Like possession?" Ava frowned and straightened.
"Something like that."
She could believe a lot of things, but possession? They'd known exactly what they'd been doing when they'd kissed each other. He'd wanted to get laid and she'd briefly caved to the loneliness. Plain and simple. For the first time in a long while, she'd had a man in her house who paid attention. Who showed interest. He saw an available female in close proximity.
Nothing else to it.
Jackson's lack of response proved he didn't agree with Sammy's theory either.
Sammy smoothed her hand down Jackson's arm and the motion eased the tension on his face.
"I'll give you two a moment. Don't take too long. We'll meet at the top of the stairs and then hopefully try for more sleep."
When the door closed behind Sammy, Ava glanced at Jackson.
He dropped his hands on his hips and his eyes down.
How lovely. She'd hurt his fragile ego.
"You should have discussed this with me before telling the entire crew."
He sighed. "It was relevant to the investigation. I did turn the camera off first. Give me some credit. And you might have backed me up, you know."
"Backed you..." She sucked in a breath, irritation ramming her temples. "I'm not interested in saving your pride, Jackson. Just my family home."
"What I felt was real. Call it attraction or nothing or a mistake. Slap any label on it you want. It still happened. Between both of us."
She rose slowly, kept her tone even. "As I said, it won't happen again."
"Yet you let me kiss you on the stairs. Again." He shrugged and smirked at her, smug as all get out.
A sarcastic, ironic laugh bubbled from her throat before she could realize it was there or stop it. "And look where it got you. That should tell you something. Huh, luv."
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