The Man In The Mirror (2 page)

She snorted. “Yeah, right. What do I look like, an idiot?”

“No, you look like a beautiful woman wearing far too few clothes. Come out—after you’ve dressed. I beg you not to torment me further with your bare limbs.”

This was too much. She had a stalker in her apartment, but he wanted her to get dressed?

Insane. It was completely totally insane. But she had to get out sooner or later, she couldn’t stand there all day waiting—hoping Lynne or someone would show up and call the police.

She double-checked the lock on the door, grabbed her clothes and streaked into the bathroom—where she locked that door as well.

Her hands shook as she jumped into her undies, 8

The Man In The Mirror

then her jeans and shirt, took a quick second to pull her damp hair back into a ponytail, before edging out of the bathroom.

No one was there, thank goodness. She rushed to the closet and pulled out a baseball bat, her last means of protection. As quiet as a cat, she eased open the door and looked around the living room and into the kitchen as far as she could see. It stood behind a small partition wall, the wall where she’d hung the mirror, but she couldn’t see all they way to the back. It was the only place he could be hiding, because she didn’t have so much as a hall closet. Unless he’d left, but she couldn’t be that lucky.

Tip-toeing around the wall, her bat poised, she prepared herself. A few steps later, her breath slipped out in a whoosh. There was no one there, just her refrigerator and a cup of cold coffee sitting on the counter.

She spun around and lunged for the front door, reaching for the locks, but they were all set.

The chain even sat in its slot.

“I told you I would not harm you,” he said, and she yelped.

Flattening her spine to the door, she frantically searched the room, but saw no one.

“I am here. Beside you in the mirror, but you will not be able to see me, I fear.”

Tori gulped and warily looked to her side, then let her gaze climb the wall to the mirror.

“Ah—ah—ah—”

“I will not, cannot harm you. You must believe me.” His gaze searched her face, or so she assumed, he was barely there, whatever he was. “I s-s-see you.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

She nodded.

“What game is she playing?” he muttered.

“Are you a g-g-ghost?”

His mouth cocked up at the corner. “Not exactly.”

Her gaze narrowed and her temper simmered. She tossed her bat to the side. “Is this some sort of sick joke?”

She’d seen enough television shows and movies to know just about anything was possible these days with computer chips, so she reached for the mirror and took it from the wall, determined to find the source of this
haunting
.

The image groaned.

She lifted it and stared into his eyes. His mouth fell open in shock, and he blinked a time or two. “Look, whoever you are. This isn’t funny.

When I find the chip that’s sending the signal, you can bet your ass, I’m calling the cops.”

“Chip?”

Oh, he was good. His expression screamed complete and utter confusion. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Yeah, chip. You know, a computer chip. A device that can transmit a signal.”

“A chip,” he said with a nod. “You believe that I am being—transmitted—like the images on your television.”

Tori shot him a smirk, a look so delectable Connor wished he could taste it—and her. But he had to prove himself, and hope she didn’t decide to destroy the mirror. It would take ages to find another, and worse, he would never see her again. If she wished him gone by destroying the mirror, he could not return to her without an invitation. He would have to find another, and the thought was more than distasteful to him.

“You paid very little for this mirror, 10

The Man In The Mirror

sweetness,” he said. “Do you truly think that one of these
chips
, a thing I am certain would be very expensive, would be inside?”

Her brow furrowed, then she flipped the mirror over, and once again, blessed him with a close up view of her breasts. Close enough that he could almost feel their softness.

“I’m not beaten yet,” she groused.

He quickly dropped his hand from the glass, as she flipped the mirror back around and marched into the kitchen. She placed him face down on the table. He listened as she rummaged amid something nearby.

“Let’s see how you did this,” she murmured.

The mirror shifted, but he remained face down for interminable seconds, then was lifted off the table. He could see the frame of the mirror before him, cleanly dismantled. The room spun as she turned him to face her.

Her eyes widened and her exquisite mouth fell open. “How did you—it’s not possible. This is nothing but a sheet of glass.”

He smiled at her confusion. “As I tried to tell you.”

She sat down at the table, and held the mirror in her hands. Hands he wished could hold him. He pulled his thoughts back to her and his tale.

“My name is Connor Stevens. I am—was a sea captain some centuries ago. A bit of a privateer, to be exact, which aided in bringing me to this current existence. I angered a sea witch, and she condemned me to this existence.”

Slowly, she shook her head. “There are no such things as witches.”

“There are many things in this world and the next we know little of, Tori. I was taught that lesson quite clearly. I was, and am sorely 11

Jo Barrett

ashamed now to admit it, a conceited, greedy, womanizer. The last is what brought me to my current predicament. I seduced a woman, the sea witch’s daughter, and left her heartbroken. I refused to heed my crewmen’s warnings of the sirens of the sea, they were but myth, I told them. But I was wrong.”

She propped him in the chair and sat back to study him. He disliked the distance, as he’d enjoyed knowing her hands held him, but said nothing.

“This is insane. I must be certifiable,” she said, shaking her head.

“You are not insane.”

Jumping to her feet, she busied herself in the kitchen. “Of course I am. It’s the only logical explanation. My brain has decided to create an imaginary friend for me, a man.” She glanced over her shoulder and squinted in his direction.

“A handsome one—I think, you’re not really clear. But you understand about my problems and so on.” She emptied her cup in the sink. “It makes perfect sense.”

Connor sighed. “If that is what you wish to believe, I will not argue the point. Perhaps that is what I truly am, and that is why you can see and hear me. The rules I thought I was bound by seem to no longer apply.”

She paused in her vigorous scrubbing of the cup, a cup no doubt cleaner than it had ever been, and looked over her shoulder at him.

“What rules?”

He explained his past, how he’d tried many times to communicate to people, how some mirrors he could appear in and others he could not. He even braved the truth, and told her that if she truly wished him gone, she need only break the mirror, and he would never return.

“Other mirrors? You mean you can move to other mirrors?” Her horrified expression almost made him smile.

“I’m not a complete arse, Tori. I don’t peek into powder rooms or bedrooms. I do not invade people’s privacy. And even if I wanted to, if I venture close to a mirror of that sort, I am instantly thrown into darkness. The one time I tried it, before I understood the rules, I awoke ten years later in a seafood restaurant.” He sighed and rubbed his stomach. “I do so miss the taste of food.”

A giggle burst from her lips. “You got what you deserve, I bet. So whose mirror was it?”

“A lover, if you must know. I thought if I appeared in her boudoir glass, all would be well, that I would be welcome in some way, but I was wrong.”

“Oh,” she said, folding her dishcloth with supreme exactness.

A glimmer of a smile teased his lips then fell.

It wasn’t jealousy but hurt he saw in her. It was the reminder of the man she loved. He had left her for another, a fact he’d learned by listening to her conversations with Lynne.

“She could not see me as you can, and had found another in my absence,” he said, hoping to ease the memory.

“I’m sorry.”

He sensed her sincerity. “It’s in the past.”

She took a deep breath, and he strained to keep his gaze on her face—something he’d not had to do for more years than he could count. No one had ever seen him before, and he was free to look where he wished, but her body, shapely yet petite, called to his baser self. It was a painful existence, indeed.

“Well, let’s talk about something else,” she 13

Jo Barrett

said with a forced smile. “So, if you’re real, then how come you sound American? Almost modern.” She sat across from him and nibbled on a piece of dry toast.

“Ah, well, sweetness, I’ve been alive for over two hundred years, and I do have ears. So I suppose I’ve picked up on a few things. Besides, I am an American,” he said with a chuckle.

“Really? Where are you from?”

“New York. But I spent most of my life on the sea.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Odd you should ask that,” he said, stroking his chin. “It’s been some time since I’ve even seen the sea, but strangely I’ve no desire to sail it any longer.”

She grinned, a delightful twinkle in her eye.

“I suppose being cursed by a sea witch would tend to taint the experience.”

He chuckled. “Yes, that it has. But it’s more than that. I’ve—changed over the years. Grown, I suppose.”

They chatted for more than an hour, and laughed often. It was a balm to his soul to see her smile.

“Well,” she said, rising from her place at the table. “I guess I should put you back together and get to Nana’s.”

He spoke no more, allowing her time to adjust to him, hoping someday she would believe he was real. But obviously, she did not.

An hour later, she came into view before the front door, her keys in hand.

“Have a nice visit with your grandmother,”

he said.

She paused and looked at the mirror, a slow smile easing over her lips. “Thanks. I’ll, um, see you later.” With a backward wave, she slipped 14

The Man In The Mirror

out the door.

“That you will, love. That you will,” he murmured, knowing she was doing her best to put him from her mind, her imaginary friend, but he had no plans of going anywhere.

Several hours later, she returned, slamming into the apartment with a growl, her face hot with color, and her beautiful lips set in a firm scowl. “How could she?”

“How could she what?”

She glared at him. “She set me up!”

Connor shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

With a huff, she started for her bedroom.

“Follow me,” she said, not sparing a glance back at him.

“Into your bedroom? I—um—are you certain?”

She stopped in the doorway and looked over her shoulder. “Only when I invite you,” she said, waggling her finger. “And I’m inviting you.

There’s a mirror over the dresser, an antique one that conniving old woman I call my grandmother gave me.”

With a grin, he left the small foyer behind and met her in her bedroom. He did his best not to look at the large sleigh bed in the center of the room, for he knew if he did, he would picture her there—and him beside her.

Her reticule landed on the bed with a thump, and his gaze shot up to the ceiling with a faint prayer. So much for not looking at the bed.

“So, um—” He cleared the lump of longing from his throat. “What did your grandmother do that has you so upset?”

“She set me up on a blind date.” She flung open the closet door and scowled at its contents.

“A blind what?”

“Date. I have an assignation with a man,”

she snarled.

“The devil you say!”

She chuckled roughly and snatched a blue dress covered in small white flowers from the closet. “Sorry. Poor choice of words. I have an appointment for coffee.” She hung the dress on a hook just inside the bathroom door, then disappeared inside.

“You mean to say your grandmother arranged for you to meet a gentleman?”

“Yep,” she called from the bath.

“And that’s not acceptable to you?”

A moment of rustling, then her bare arm, visible for merely a moment, retrieved the garment from the hook. His body tensed at the sight, knowing the rest of her was just as bare.

“What’s not acceptable,” she said, coming out of the bath buttoning up the last of the fastenings at the front of her dress, “is that my grandmother set the date for me. And for today, of all days. I look like I’ve been through hell.

How could anything be more humiliating?”

“Ah, well, when put that way, I can see your meaning, but she only means well, sweetness.”

She was lovely with her hair dancing across her shoulders, the dress clinging tight to her sensuous curves. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed.

She laughed softly and picked up an earbob from the small box she kept atop the dresser.

“Complimenting myself, there’s gotta be something wrong with that,” she muttered, then looked up at him and froze.

“Tori?”

She jerked around and looked behind her then spun back around to the mirror.

“Tori, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can see you.” The hand holding her earbob 16

The Man In The Mirror

shook as she motioned toward him.

“So you said earlier.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, I mean I can really see you. It’s as if you were standing—

right—behind me.”

“You mean I’m clearer than before? Not like a ghost?”

She shook her head again as she backed away. “This is so wrong.” Her legs hit the edge of the bed and she sank down on it. “I’m getting worse. That’s what it is. I’ve gone from a voice, to a shadowy reflection, to a full-blown hunk in Technicolor. At this rate, I’ll be wrapped in a straight jacket by tomorrow morning.”