Knock, knock... (15 page)

Another woman fretted about the traffic and still another was on her way to meet a secret lover, hoping her husband at her side would pick up the dry cleaning on his way to coach soccer. Only, the husband was meeting someone himself.

Shay turned back to her car and got in. So much humanity at the surface in a single gathering. For all their private lives and secretive thoughts, no one appeared to harbor any visible ill will toward the deceased.

She got in her car to head home.

***

Roman put the phone back in his pocket for at least the dozenth time that morning. Only now he stood outside her apartment. "Where the hell are you, Shay?"

He'd tried both her cell phone and her home phone. No answer.

He should never have left her alone last night. Not after the unlocked door. All sorts of horrible images had filled his mind since. He'd long given up and had raced to her apartment to check it out for himself. And got no answer. There was a different doorman at the front entrance this time, and he hadn't been able to confirm if Shay had left.

All Roman could do was keep trying. He pulled out his phone and watched the time tick off. Then he hit redial.

"Hello?"

Frustrated relief washed through him, followed by quick, sharp anger. "Damn it, where the hell are you?"

There was a surprised silence at the other end.

Shit.
He groaned. "Sorry. I didn't mean that quite the way it sounded, but I've been trying to get a hold of you for several hours now. After last night, when you didn't answer, I started to get very worried."

"I'm fine," she said coolly. "I was at another funeral. One of the people my foundation works with had a heart attack last week."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry again. That's a tough one. Two funerals in three days isn't fun."

"No, it isn't." She sighed. "And I have another one next week. Same thing."

"Same thing?" His voice sharpened unintentionally. "That's not good."

Her voice trembled as it crept through the phone. "No, it isn't."

"Does all this have anything to do with your apartment being unlocked last night?" An odd silence raised the hairs on the back of his neck. "Shay? Are you in danger?"

"No. No, not at all," she said quickly. "Two men had heart attacks. They ran projects my foundation funded. They were associates. There's no danger."

"Good." Relief was slow to come but when it did, it washed through him in a rush. He'd been so worried. "Good to know. You scared me."

"Sorry. I just turned on my phone. I haven't had a chance to check my messages yet."

"Well most of them will be from me."

"Then I won't need to listen to them, will I?" Her voice turned brusque, professional.

He hated that. As if she was trying to push him back. "Unless you had something specific you were calling about...?"

"I initially called to make sure you were okay after last night. Then when I couldn't get a hold of you, I started to panic. I’ve actually been standing outside your apartment, wondering if I should break in or not." He laughed, a short sound that made him wince as he heard it. "I was sure you'd been hurt. I've been kicking myself for not staying last night." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I guess I overreacted."

"It's all right. I'm glad you called to check on me." She paused, adding humorously, "At least if I do get murdered, it's nice to know that my body would eventually be found."

"That's not funny."

"I wasn't joking," she said, a bitter tone to her words.

He didn't know what to say to that. He didn’t like her words or her tone. But how much was she not telling him? "Where are you?"

"Sitting in my car at the cemetery about to go home to rest."

"You didn't sleep last night?" He relaxed, knowing she was okay now, and happy to be talking to her. He wanted to see her. Take her out of her odd mood. Maybe coax her to share a little more. "Let's go to lunch."

Silence.

"Is that a yes?" he asked carefully. "I thought maybe the Palace Restaurant. They have a beautiful coffee bar and lunch buffet. Are you sure I can't tempt you with some food?"

"I'm tired," she said. "I wouldn't be good company."

"I'm not looking for good company." And he wasn't. He was only just beginning to realize what he was looking for. "I'm looking to spend an hour, stress free, with you. Like we did last night before we reached your place," he coaxed. "We had a wonderful evening, didn't we?"

She went quiet.

***

Should she go?
Hell, no.
But did she want to?
Hell, yes.

"I'd like to meet with you again," he said promptly. "Lunch. In twenty minutes at the Palace."

And he hung up.

Shay stared down at the phone in her hand.
What the hell. What if I don't want to meet you, Roman?
Then it was too late to decline, because she'd let herself get caught up in the idea. She should have turned him down right at the beginning. Instead she'd let him assume she'd be there.

She wanted to be there. But it wasn’t like she was put together for a luncheon date. She looked down at her black slacks and matching black cotton sweater. To hell with it. If he was so hot to meet her, then he could meet her as she was.

She turned on the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

Shay?

Damn.
Shay was forced to pull onto the shoulder of the road.
Stefan? What's up?

I was going to ask you that. There's been a lot of odd energy coming off you for the last ten minutes.

She groaned.
That's one way to put it
. Quickly she explained her morning.
So I'm heading over there for lunch.

Good. It will be good for you.

Says you.

Yes, says me. It's your time for love.

And he left, leaving her mind empty and gasping. Speaking aloud to the empty car, she said, "Damn it, Stefan. That's not fair. If you know something, tell me."

Warm laughter filled her mind.

But he stayed silent.

Irritated, yet feeling better for some odd reason, she pulled back into traffic and headed to the restaurant.
Was Stefan right? Was Roman her life partner? If so, wouldn't she know?
Of course not, not with that damn wall of his…and her luck.

Roman was standing outside the restaurant, talking on the phone, when she pulled up. He finished his call and put his phone away once he caught sight of her.

"I was afraid you weren't coming."

"A friend called. I needed to speak with him for a few minutes."

Roman smiled. "Good. Glad you're here. I have a table waiting for us in the conservatory."

She rolled her eyes at him – of course he got one of the nicest tables in the place. "Who did you have to bribe to get that table?"

He laughed. "No one. A couple was getting ready to leave when I walked in."

She didn't believe him but, what the hell, she'd enjoy a quiet lunch.

As they walked toward the door of the restaurant, Roman asked, "How was the funeral?"

She winced. "Personally, I hate funerals. Don't intend to have one after I'm gone and don't like attending them when friends and family die."

"Many people don't like them, but usually it's because of their sense of loss." He opened the front door of the restaurant for her. "Helps them to find closure."

"Not in my case," she said shortly. "I don't need them, like them, or want them."

"And you see too many people who do?"

She shot him a narrow look under her lashes.
How did he mean that?
It seemed like she was always looking for hidden meanings in everything he said. She hated that. But with her abilities, she found it instinctive to be self-protecting now.

"I've seen too many people put into the ground to find any solace in a funeral," Shay said.

The hostess motioned for them to follow.

He placed his hand on the small of her back and nudged her forward. He tilted his head toward her. "Interesting perception."

She laughed. "Not really. What about you? Are you a fan of funerals?"

He shrugged. "I see them as a necessary stage for the living and the dead."

She repeated his words. "Interesting. And what is your opinion of life after death?"

He looked startled. After studying her for a moment to make sure she was serious, he said, "I don't know that I have one. I guess I believe there is more out there than we know, but as I have no personal experience either way, I'm neutral on the issue."

It could be worse. At least he hadn't jumped down her throat or interrogated her for hours. That was good. They took their seats and ordered coffee.

"You do have an opinion, I presume?" He quirked a brow and studied her.

The curiosity in his voice made her smile. "Maybe. But you'll think I'm crazy."

"Not at all, but now I am curious."

"I thought I saw Bernice in her room that day she died. Then again at her funeral." She hadn't meant to say anything about that.

He sat back, one eyebrow raised. "Interesting."

She leaned back and stared at him. "You say that a lot?"

A lopsided grin slid out. And damn if that smile didn't just burrow a little deeper into her psyche and make itself at home. Funny how attractive acceptance was.

And how unexpected.

"Do you see ghosts often?" His question, so casual and so calm, made her study him over her coffee mug.

She leaned forward and whispered, "You do realize how ridiculous that question is?"

"Is it? Bernice mentioned that she thought you had some weird things going on along that line."

"Bernice did?
Really?"

He nodded.

Shay laughed. "That old sneak. Maybe she was trying to warn you away from me. Make me out to be a nutcase."

He chuckled warmly. "No, not Bernice. She loved you."

"Yes, she did." Shay's eyes got a little misty. "I miss her."

"Does that mean she won't be staying around and haunting you?"

"I wish. But that would mean she hasn't crossed over the way she should have. I wouldn't wish that fate on her."

There was an odd silence. She glanced up from her plate to find him studying her. "You're serious, aren't you?" His smile deepened. "Of course I shouldn't be too surprised. Ronin has also dropped a few tidbits about you over the last year or two."

Shay put her cup down to give him her full attention.

"And he's worked with Stefan several times." Roman watched for a response.

"Stefan is a wonderful artist." Shay smirked.

"And a skilled psychic." Roman sat back slightly as if to put some distance between them. "Apparently."

She snorted. "You said you were open to it."

"Not quite," he corrected. "I said I had no opinion either way."

She waved her fork in the air. "Splitting hairs."

"I'm open-minded about many things I'd never consider a few years back. I have a friend who is a highly acclaimed healer." He sounded like he wanted to believe her.

"Healing is good." And it was. If Roman could be open on that score, maybe he could be open to more? "Who is it?"

"Her name is Dr. Maddy from The Haven," he said.

Shay laughed in delight. "I know Dr. Maddy. She's a good friend of Stefan's. I'd like to know her better, but we're all so busy."

"If it makes you feel any better, after seeing what Dr. Maddy can do, I’ve had to re-examine a lot of the things I thought I knew. Am I clear on them? No. Am I open? Yes." He sighed. "How well do you know Stefan?" His deep gaze pinned her in place.

A little more at ease, she said, "Well. He's a good friend. Why?"

He shrugged, dropping his gaze. "No reason. I've heard a lot about him from Dr. Maddy."

"Ah." Shay smiled. "They are good friends. And I know Stefan helps her with her special project. She's an incredibly strong psychic."

"
Psychic?"
He looked uncomfortable again.

"That word bugs you, doesn't it?"

With a sheepish grin he admitted, "I prefer to think of Dr. Maddy as a healer."

"She is, but she's also an incredibly powerful psychic and that helps with her healing work."

***