Intimate Whispers (4 page)

“Your brother,” she prompted with a lift of her eyebrow.

He leaned forward. “How did you know he’s dead?”

“Because you’re knocking on my door after midnight.” And because these days only the dead had cause to speak to her.

“That doesn’t…it doesn’t…” He faltered.

Poor guy. She’d dealt with this type before. Desperate for answers after she’d given him a glimpse into the spirit world. Nothing in her memory suggested that she had, but the fact he sat here now hinted at as much. She avoided this type of situation like the plague, but no cause for it now. “Listen, I’m sorry I said something to upset you, but sometimes I just say stupid things.”

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Intimate Whispers

“Not this.”

“Let me guess,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I gave you some message from your brother and now you want to get into contact with him, right?” Jason’s eyes widened. “Well let me tell you, it’s just a party trick,” she lied.

He folded his arms over his chest, tucking one fist beneath his chin. Deadlocked, they stared at each other. Between gritted teeth, he said, “I don’t believe you.” Hope deflated. That meant the message sparked some memory only the two brothers shared. If she’d relayed something cryptic that any observant person could guess, he’d be on his way by now.

“You’ve said something to me in passing, maybe I read a piece of your mail by accident and used it against you.” She needed him to leave this vein of thought alone.

“I’m sorry, really I am, but I promise you, whatever message I gave you doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

“Why are you doing this?” The rims of his eyelids reddened, but he held her gaze.

“You were the one to say he’s dead, remember?” If she dared look into Pandora’s box, secrets she didn’t want to know would be revealed. Her sanity couldn’t afford to look, but he was hurting. That much she could tell already. Whatever business he and his brother shared hadn’t been completed before his passing. “What do you want from me?”

“I…my brother died…and I just need… If I could talk to him.”

“Okay, are you listening to yourself? What you’re suggesting is a little crazy. I’m no ghost whisperer or what have you. What really makes you think I can help you with contacting someone who’s dead?”

“You couldn’t have known,” he cried. His chest rose and fell forcefully. “What you said—”

“What did I say?”

“You really don’t remember?”

She shook her head. “No.”

His eyes narrowed. “What about the rest of tonight? Do you remember any of it, either?”

Her attention shifted to her closed bedroom door before returning to him. She said softly, “No.”

Jason’s shoulders slumped, his face aging before her eyes. He took a deep breath, and swiped his hand over his face. Dejection wiped away the hope shining from him only a few minutes ago. “I don’t know why I’m here,” he said, rising. “I’m sorry to have bothered you so late.”

So that made her feel like a total ass. “Wait, Jason.” Sabrina bit her lip, mulling over her options. Obviously something occurred between them earlier in the evening. Something she had no recollection of, but must 19

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have involved his help. For one, she needed to get the details on that from him. No telling what damage needed repairing as a result.

Her second task was a little more difficult. How best to give him what he needed without diving headfirst into the world of the dead? If He didn’t come to her immediately afterward to provide His special kind of protection, she’d be in a world of hurt. Was it even worth it?

“You said something about helping me out earlier tonight. I can’t remember what happened. Do you mind recapping a little?”

He lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “You needed help getting home, that’s all.”

“I didn’t know where I was, did I?” After he nodded, she added, “And I was talking about things that seemed a little strange to you?”

“You said you couldn’t help them.”

No, she couldn’t help the dead. Too many vied for her attention at one time.

“Where was this?”

“At the grocer a few blocks away. You had a box of cereal in your hand.” So, he got her home during one of her fugues, when goodness only knew who could have taken advantage of her and she’d be none the wiser. His actions gave her little choice in the matter. “All right, I’ll tell you what. Have a seat.” His brows lifted. “Yeah?”

“I’m not making you any promises, but,” she blew out a breath, “I’ll see what I can do.” Her gaze narrowed. “But Jason, you are sworn to secrecy. What happens or might not happen stays right here between you and me. Do we have a deal?” He made a valiant effort not to smile, but she caught the way his mouth pushed up in the corners as he nodded. Before they were done, she’d find a way to make him finish it. She had a feeling a smile would look damn good on sexy neighbor man.

Jason sat back down in his previous spot, this time minus a bouncing knee. “So how does this work? What is it that you do?”

And the moment she’d been dreading had arrived. Looking him straight in the eye, she said, “I talk to the dead.”

The moment the words left her mouth, he couldn’t help but reflect on the whispers about Sabrina. Schizophrenic. Hears voices. Talks to herself.

According to her, she did hear voices; only, she heard the voices of the dead.

Whoa.

“I’m sorry?”

A twinkle appeared in her eyes. “I have the ability to talk to the dead.” Was she serious? “Really?” he squeaked. Clearing the frog in his throat, he tried again. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Really.”

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Intimate Whispers

On any other day, he would have dismissed her claim as a colossal joke, but he couldn’t shake that singular phrase. The inflections and enunciations that were dead ringers for the way Teddy spoke.

Sabrina’s legs unfolded and he caught another decadent glimpse of skin he shouldn’t be privy to. This time, the skin of her brown inner thigh flashed in front of him before she crossed her legs and covered herself with the robe. His dick twitched.

“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “What do you do? Or, uh, how does it work?” He couldn’t believe he was seriously getting hard. The woman didn’t do much more than sit there, but his favorite appendage came to life.

“It’s something I’ve been doing for a long time.” Focus. “So you’ve actually talked to my brother?” This time she shrugged. “Perhaps. I don’t know.”

“But you said—”

“I don’t remember what I said to you. I wish I could tell you different, but I can’t. It may have been a message from your brother. It might have been some random message from someone else that happened to resonate with you.”

“No, this was for me.”

Sabrina blew out a breath and rubbed a hand across her face. “If you insist it is, let’s try something simple.” She stood and motioned for him to follow. “Ever heard of automatic writing?”

They stopped at the breakfast bar where a small pile of mail lay scattered. Sabrina lifted a few pieces and located a pen hidden beneath. She flipped a sheet of paper over so that the printed side lay facedown as she settled onto a stool.

“Is that where you put a pen in your hand and wait for someone to take over and start writing?”

She drew back, a surprised grin on her face. “You’ve done this before?”

“When I was about twelve. I remember playing light as a feather, stiff as a board too.”

She huffed. “It’s a damn good thing kids don’t know what they’re doing when they start messing with the occult. One wrong move with a Ouija board, or a second too long in a trance, and they open up a world where they have no business.”

“Is that how you got started?” He watched her jaw tighten.

“No.”

There was a story there, but he’d have to get it later. Right now, he wanted to see this automatic writing in action. “So what do we do?”

“We? We do nothing. You sit there, think about your brother and be quiet. I’ll be doing my best not to get possessed.”

“Wait, what?”

“Nothing,” she muttered.

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He rested his hand on hers, preventing her from getting into a comfortable writing position. “Sabrina, is this dangerous?”

Dark circles lined beneath her eyes, but she held his gaze. “Think about your brother and let’s get this over with. It’s a one-time offer.” A pause gripped his breath. Reluctantly though, his hand dropped and he gave her a curt nod. “Fine.”

Only it wasn’t fine. What the hell was he thinking? Did she just mention something about getting possessed? This virtual stranger had no reason to help him, yet she was willing to work within the loose rules of the occult on his behalf. Rules he knew nothing about.

He hadn’t thought this through at all. Maybe they both needed to take a step back, figure out what they were doing, and formulate some sort of game plan. If this didn’t involve Teddy, he wouldn’t be here at all. She didn’t need to be dragged into his family’s disaster.

Second thoughts creeped over him like little spiders.

“Sa—”

Her eyes stared unseeing at him. No blinking. No movement.

He edged closer, but nothing changed. She sat erect, the pen resting loosely in her right hand. Steady breathing. The pulse in her neck throbbing with a constant rhythm.

Jesus, what had he gotten them into? He had more questions than answers, and the only person who could answer them sat trancelike before him.

Everything happened so quickly, before his brain had a chance to process the changes. Sudden movement jerked his attention back to her. The pen moved. Quick, uncoordinated motions that resulted in jagged lines of ink marking the page.

He held his breath, his focus riveted to the scrawl.

Sabrina let out a soft whimper, a sound so erotic and wanton, his gaze snapped up to study her face once again. She regarded him with soft, half-lidded eyes. No, not him.

The space in front of him.

Her chin lifted through a blink so slow he thought her lids might remained closed.

She opened her eyes at last, but they didn’t focus. Sabrina was in another place.

“Sabrina?” he whispered.

The pen began to scrawl across the paper again. As much as it pained him to do so, he left the comfort of scanning her face to figure out the meaning behind the pen’s movement. She wrote with strange, disjointed weaving lines that crossed each other backward and forward until the page filled with illegible scribble.

She’d instructed him to focus and instead of thinking of Teddy, he’d become enthralled on the process of automatic writing. Shit.

He plucked another page from where she’d gotten the first and replaced the insanely marked one with the stark-white page. The moment blue ink appeared on it, he pulled every memory he had of Teddy from within his psyche.

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Intimate Whispers

It still hurt to think of him as gone. Maybe if they’d been closer, like when Teddy was younger, before the problems began…

Their mother said the nurses must have accidentally dropped him in a tub the day he was born. Teddy loved the water. Every type of water sport. Swam like a fish. His boat, purchased before he considered saving for a car, had been named
The Mona Lisa
.

Teddy, with their father’s exuberant green eyes, of whom he’d been jealous. Whose smile had never quite reached his emerald gaze. Who became more sullen and withdrawn from all of them as the years passed.

His brother, who he’d ultimately failed in the end.

A woman’s sigh caressed his mind. Other sounds in the room sharpened to a fine point, scraping against the base of his spine like nails on a chalkboard.

He opened his eyes, just now realizing he’d closed them in the first place. His shoulders ached, his neck stiff as if he’d been in the same uncomfortable position for hours. A quick roll of his shoulders eased some of the tension, but new pings of protesting muscles screamed for his attention too. He looked up to find Sabrina standing next to him, a glass of water extended.

“You okay?” she asked.

Biting back a moan, he nodded. “Yeah. What time is it and what happened?” She waited for him to take the glass. “Think of it like meditation. I went into a sort of trance and you followed.”

He gulped down some of the cool liquid. “Did it work, then?” Leaning forward, he searched for the paper she’d been writing on, but Sabrina shifted until she blocked his path. A gap appeared in her robe, offering enough of a teasing view that his gaze dropped, lest she find him ogling. Despite a fevered imagination having to work overtime with an image of what he hoped he’d seen, like clockwork, his dick lifted.

“It worked,” she replied, her voice like silk.

His ears perked because he knew the dulcet tones of a woman’s seductive voice.

The one that gave him permission to touch her body, explore her intimate places. When he swallowed this time, it had nothing to do with the glass of water.

He glanced at her and swallowed again. Sabrina’s eyes were bright, the pupils dilated until the color of her irises could have passed for black. She brought her finger to her lip to trace the lower rim. Her hand drifted lower, over her chin and trailed down her neck, moving lower still until she pulled that teasing gap open a little wider.

“Hey…” His words caught in his throat. Really, he had nothing to offer. Nothing any red-blooded man with a lick of sense staring down a beautiful woman would say.

She reached for his jaw, and when she connected, a burst of fire enveloped his skin.

“You have the most incredible eyes, you know.” Heat traveled along his skin, a wake of burn following her touch. “They’re so unique. Mesmerizing.” 23

Dee Carney

The skin along his face never felt more sensitive. His heartbeat hinging on whether she kept her finger connected to him. Something about this didn’t sit well. This sudden interest in him. But damn if he could get his mind to concentrate long enough to sort the details.

Her scent wafted to him and he realized she’d moved closer. Not just closer.

Electricity crackled in the sparse places they didn’t quite touch. Very few places.