In Love With a Haunted House (Contemporary Romance) (5 page)

**

After Blake dropped her off at home Mallory began to gather up the things she would need while she went to talk to the man who ran the local ad agency and looked over his books. Her mind was not at all on the task on hand, instead it was stuck on Blake.

So he had never known his grandmother. How sad was that? She could understand exactly why he wanted the house and if things were different she would have walked away and let him have it but things were far too dire for her.

The only other prospect was living with her mother for the next year or two or renting another place. Paying rent would quickly deplete her savings. Living with her mother for too long would drive her insane.

Could they really turn the house into a duplex? Did she want that?

How could she live that close to Blake and not give into the temptation that was constantly rising up in her every time he got near her?

She doubted it, he was far too irresistible.

What was wrong with her exactly? She had just gotten out of a relationship that had gone seriously south, the last thing she needed was to get hung up on another guy, especially one like Blake.

One like Blake, what did she mean by that exactly? He was different than the guys she usually dated, yes, but was that really a bad thing? Jim had been exactly the kind of guy she dated and look how that had turned out.

That brought her to another thought. What had happened to all the hurt that she had felt over his leaving? It had somehow vanished, and she was not sure why or how. It was like it had just disappeared as soon as she had gotten back to Golden.

Or as soon as she met Blake.

Frustrated by that thought she finished dressing, applying a little more mascara to her lashes and a small squirt of light floral perfume to her flesh before heading out.

She had better things to think about than a good-looking man in tight jeans…

**

Blake had dated several women over the last few years but none of them had come anywhere close to inciting the feelings that Mallory had created within him in just a matter of days. She had somehow managed to reach right inside of him and put a finger on his heart.

That disturbed him greatly. It was impossible to fall in love at first sight, but it seemed that he had. How was that possible? Mallory was obviously not interested in him, and she had the look of someone who was keeping people at bay for a damn good reason.

He walked into the hardware store, trying to get his mind off her by pricing some materials but that idea fell flat as soon as he saw Lonnie standing in an aisle scoping out a rake. He looked up, saw Blake and grinned that sickly little grin of his before he said, “Hello there. How did it work out with Mallory?”

“What do you mean?” Blake had a feeling that he knew exactly what Lonnie was getting at but he chose to try to sidestep it in the hopes that Lonnie would get the hint. No such luck was happening, it seemed, because Lonnie said, “She’s feisty, isn’t she?”

“Define feisty.”

Lonnie ignored Blake’s glower. “I don’t blame you for chasing her but keep in mind that she likes the kind of guy that wears glasses and reads books.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing too.”

“I guess it is a bad thing, at least for guys like us. She doesn’t seem to like them virile.”

That Lonnie could even apply that word to himself was mind-boggling. Blake said, “Well that’s her option, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is, you would figure after she got dumped just a couple of days before she was supposed to walk down the aisle with that guy she was with up there in Chicago, she would change her mind.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh come on, everyone in town’s talking about it. She lost her job and fiancé all at once. She came home too, she had nowhere else to go, I hear the only money she’s even got these days is the money she got back from her wedding. Serves her right if you ask me, she was always talking about how she couldn’t wait to get out of here. Well, she sure enough had to come back didn’t she, just
goes
to show she could not make it up there.”

Blake punched him. It was a reflex action and one he was not sorry about. It wasn’t even a hard punch, it was almost a tap but it knocked Lonnie straight off his feet and onto his ass in the middle of the floor.

Lonnie cried, “What did you do that for?”

“I’m sorry, my hands slipped as I was reaching for that rake behind you.”

A snigger from the clerk put Lonnie back on his feet, his eyes narrowing down to mere slits as he said, “You’re never going to get that house. I’ll see to it that you won’t! I would not sell it to you if you were the last person on earth!”

Blake walked out of the store. His thoughts were flying in all different directions and he really wished he had not run into Lonnie at all. Mallory had had a bad breakup that accounted for the sadness in her eyes and the way that she seemed to be so distant so much of the time. She just moved home, so that was a fresh wound.

The last thing on earth she needed was some guy like him messing around with her.

**

Mallory made it home that evening feeling discouraged and saddened. The day had not gone well, nothing had gone the way she had hoped and planned ever since she had come back to Golden and she was beginning to question the wisdom of returning home.

Maybe she should have just stayed gone; maybe she should have taken her chances in Chicago and hoped for the best, anything might have been better than this.

Her mom met her at the door, a slightly goofy grin on her face and a glass of wine in her hand. “There you are, dear! Come on in, we have been waiting for you!”

“We? Who’s we, Mom?”

“Your friend Blake and me of course.”

Her friend Blake? Mallory stared past her mother at Blake, who looked ridiculously at ease on her mother’s overstuffed sofa. He gave her a sheepish grin and she tilted her head, trying to figure out what angle he was working. She had already agreed to try to work with him to obtain Gray Oaks so what else did he want?

“I made a giant roast,” Cara announced, “and cobbler.”

Of course she had. It was the same meal she made for every guy that she approved of—that was her silent but visible seal and stamp. Mallory gritted her teeth and waited until her mother left the room to hiss, “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know really. She saw me walking down the street…”

“Why were you walking down the street?”

“I like to walk down the street.”

“Are you stalking me?”

“If I were stalking you I would not be walking down the street in plain sight. I certainly would not stop to talk to your mom and let her invite me to dinner. What kind of stalker does that?”

“A very good one!”

“Okay now, that is just a little rude, I think. Actually I’m not sure. Are you complimenting my stalking skills or accusing me of having them in the first place?”

“You are the most impossible man on the planet!”

His kiss cut off her words mid-sentence. It took her by surprise but it was a welcome surprise. She melted into him, unable to help herself from doing so. She could smell his cologne and his shampoo; see the tiny little mole on his neck and feel the slightly rough fabric of his shirt below her fingertips.

As kisses went it beat any kiss Jim had ever given her hands-down. It was a dangerous kiss, the kind of kiss that could make a woman forget what it was she had to lose, and how much it would hurt to be left by a man like this one.

When it ended she immediately wanted him to kiss her again but he took a long step away from her and said, “I just had to know if your lips were as sweet as they look. They are.”

They were interrupted by Cara coming back in the room and announcing that dinner was ready. Mallory had gone silent, stricken mute by the power of the kiss and his presence in her home. There was so much more to this man than his slick surface suggested and she knew it, but how did she get past all the walls he had put up all around himself? Why did she even want to break past those walls?

Blake was impressed with Mallory’s home and her mother and not just because it was obvious that both were extremely well cared for. The house was the low-slung little Cape Cod style cottage he had noticed the day before. He had always liked the place; it had always seemed so charming.

Cara was charming too and she was also a good cook. The roast was perfect: juicy and tender. The vegetables were firm but done to a turn and the bread was fresh, slathered in butter and homemade.

The table was set with pretty willow-patterned plates and the wine was excellent—a deep dark merlot that went down perfectly with the meal. Mallory was just picking at her food and he knew that was his fault. He had meant to leave her alone, to just stop things before they even got started because it was very clear that she did not need more heartache in her life, and yet he had shown up here anyway.

How could he have been so insensitive? He should have known better and he did actually. She had accused him of being a stalker and while that was not necessarily true he could and should have told her mother no when she asked him to join her for a glass of wine and some conversation.

The evening was enjoyable but tense. When he finally got up to take his leave Mallory walked him to the door and he wondered if she was doing that to make sure he really left. On the front porch they paused. The night pressed down and the moon had come out as well as the stars. The silvery light outlined her pale face and the vibrant flame of her hair. The soft curve of her cheek made him want to kiss her again, and nuzzle his face into the long creamy column of her neck.

“I should not have come here and bothered you like this.”

“It’s okay. I just don’t think kissing you again is the best idea, especially if we are going to be neighbors.”

“So you decided to give the duplex idea a try?”

Had she? It seemed she had. Mallory crossed her arms over her chest so he could not see the hardening ridge of her nipples below her shirt. How could he confuse her and turn her on so much all at the same time? She wanted him to kiss her again, even though she was saying she didn’t.

Mallory was not used to playing games and she didn’t like the feeling that she was playing one. She had always believed that honesty was the best policy but here she was, lying her butt off. She honestly thought him kissing her again was a splendid idea.

“I suppose so.”

Blake said, “I guess we are in cahoots now, huh?”

She wanted to be in more than just cahoots with him. “Yes.”

“Good night, Mallory. Thanks again for the great meal.”

“Oh, it was not me, it was my mom.”

“Tell her thanks again for me, please.”

“I will.” He walked off and she stood on the porch watching him go. His jeans outlined his bottom, the denim swaddling those firm ripe globes and her hands itched to touch him, to feel those muscular halves under her fingers.

“My God, that man has a walk the devil would envy. A butt the devil would envy too. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, Mom.” She pushed her body away from the porch railing.

“Then why aren’t you running after him?”

“Because I just got out of a relationship, I don’t need another one.”

Cara stopped her before she could walk into the house. “I never liked Jim. I guess I never bothered to hide that fact either.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Do you know why I never liked him?”

“No, why didn’t you?”

“Because he was never in the same relationship that you were in, he was in something totally different.”

Mallory turned away, her eyes glinting with tears. “Mom, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I think you better do something before you end up as alone and sad as Shannon Lewis did. At least she had a romantic backstory to season her tragedy, all you have is your heart broken by a guy who never loved you as much as you loved him.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind, Mom. Good night.”

“I still think you should run after him and grab on tight.”

“Stop reading romance novels, Mom, they are giving you a weird outlook on life.”

“It’s called hope, darling, you should try it sometime.”

“No thanks. That is one brand of hope I just can’t afford.”

She meant that last bit. She also swore that she would never kiss Blake again, no matter how tempting it was.

Blake was telling himself the same thing. The last thing he needed to do was get involved with a woman who was clearly not interested in being involved with him.

He was going to leave her alone, no more walking past the house trying to get a glimpse of her. Okay, he had done that and yes, that was actually stalking—maybe not in a creepy  trying to look into her windows or steal her panties kind of way but yes, it was stalking.

He had really not meant to intrude upon her life. Her mother’s invitation had surprised him. What had surprised him even more was her mother’s candid confession that she thought that perhaps the divorce between herself and Mallory’s father, so late in their lives together, had created some serious trust issues within Mallory.

That and being dumped by the jackass ex that had apparently been planning his exit for quite some time. How could a man leave her like that? If that had been him he never would have walked away.

The motel loomed ahead. He stared at the unlovely building, seeing how it sagged in the weed-choked lot, its cinderblock sides glowing dimly under the sodium vapor lights. The roof was a bright red tile, put on during some burst of better times.

The windows were all covered with the heavy drapes that promised privacy but could not quite mask the sounds of the highway just beyond, and the cars and trucks parked in front of the rooms were all older, dingy and worn out.

The whole thing made him tired. He wanted to be at Gray Oaks, sitting out on the porch in a low-slung wicker sofa with his arm around Mallory’s shoulder and the crickets whirring in the grass, the frogs croaking from the small pond that sat near the side yard of the property and the night birds singing from the branches of the towering live oak trees.

He went into his room, stripped and showered and then lay down on his bed. He closed his eyes, trying to banish the very tempting images that had been conjured up seemingly from thin air.