Double Dating with the Dead by Karen Kelley (best fiction novels to read .txt) 📗

it toward him. He deftly caught it.

“Try it on.”

She didn’t think he would, but he surprised her and placed it on his head. He took her breath away. Who’d have thought he’d look as though he’d just climbed down off a horse. It was bad enough he wore Gio. She also had a weakness for sexy cowboys.

“Now you.” He nodded toward the trunk.

Their differences suddenly seemed to disappear. It was almost as if they were…friends. It was an odd feeling. One she didn’t mind at all.

She reached inside the trunk again, digging around until she came up with another box. Inside was a little black hat adorned with black beads, purple feathers and black netting. It was exquisite, and other than being a little crushed, it looked fine.

She placed it on her head. “How do I look?”

He laughed. Her bottom lip puckered. She hadn’t laughed at him.

“It doesn’t quite go with your attire.”

She glanced down, then looked in the mirror. He was right, she looked comical, but she’d show him. She reached into the trunk again and pulled out a black dress with a scooped neckline. If her judgment was right, it should fit.

“Turn around.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to try it on with you watching.” Duh.

“I wouldn’t mind.” He crossed his arms in front of him.

Desire flared inside her at the thought of stripping in front of him. Get a hold of yourself. It wouldn’t happen.

She wanted to try on the dress, though. She had a passion for vintage clothes, and the dress she held was a wonderful find.

“We both know you’re dying to try it on, but you owe me for this. I was only going to help you find bones. Not play dress up.”

When he turned around, she grinned. Such a pushover. She removed the hat and quickly stripped, hesitating for just a second before losing her bra. White straps wouldn’t look good with the dress. She pulled it over her head, not really caring there was a faint odor of mothballs.

The dress fell down to her feet in soft folds of black silk. Buttoning it wasn’t easy, but she finally managed a few, then placed the hat on her head again. When she faced the mirror, it was like looking into the past.

For a moment she couldn’t move. She could only stare at her reflection. Something told her this had once belonged to Dixie. How had it survived all these years?

She smoothed her hands over the soft fabric and closed her eyes, catching a new scent. Lilac. She could feel all Dixie’s hopes and dreams. Her love for Wesley. Her anger when he flirted with other women.

Ah, Dixie. It was only to make you jealous.

I know, came the whispered response. Too late, but yes, I know.

“Are you decent?” Trent asked, drawing her from her thoughts, her feelings.

“You can turn around.”

He did, but didn’t speak, only stared.

“Do I look okay?” She twirled around, laughing when she faced him once again.

“You look beautiful. Like you just stepped out of the pages of history.”

“Why, sir, are you waxing poetic? I swear, it’s enough to turn a girl’s head.”

He only smiled. Her face grew warm. Trent was the only man who’d ever made her feel this flustered. She turned away from him. She felt as if she was on the brink of something that might get her into trouble.

Think about something else.

“Isn’t this stuff wonderful?” She moved farther into the attic, pulling off a dusty sheet and uncovering another treasure. “Look. A Victrola. I wonder if it works.”

“There’s only one way to find out.” He walked over and wound the machine, then placed the needle on the record.

The slow strains of a waltz filled the room. Scratchy, but it worked.

“May I have this dance?” he asked with a slight smirk. “Or would that be considered consorting with the enemy?”

His look challenged her. She never ran from a challenge. And just maybe she wanted to feel his arms around her again.

“I would be honored.”

Placing her hand in his, she let him lead her to a small area that was free of furniture and trunks. He turned, taking her into his arms. The heat of his hand on her dress burned all the way to her skin. Ahh, but it was the kind of heat that inspired naughty thoughts.

Was he feeling the same thing that she was?

Trent glanced down into Selena’s face, but she quickly looked away. Why? Was she afraid to be this close to him?

No, she wasn’t afraid of him. He had a feeling she was afraid of her body’s reaction when he was this close. Maybe her dreams had been as raunchy as his. Something to think about. She’d certainly been giving him the impression she was interested.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part. Who’d have thought she’d make him want her so badly he’d be having fantasies? He closed his eyes and let her scent drift over him. Lilac. Different from the scent she usually wore. Lilac and leather. Odd combination. It must be coming from the clothes they wore.

A queasy sensation washed over him. His stomach churned. It was all he could do to stay upright. He closed his eyes, fighting the nausea.

What the hell was happening?

He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly.

The attic was different. Not as cluttered—cleaner. Everything looked newer. The music wasn’t scratchy anymore.

He’d never passed out, but right now he felt as if he might. Something was happening. Something he couldn’t explain.

“Trent?”

Selena said his name, but it seemed to come from very far away.

Chapter 17

Trent forced himself to concentrate, but it seemed to be a losing battle. He looked down at Selena, but it wasn’t her face he saw. The woman he held had blond hair.

“Wesley,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

Everything went dark. What the hell was going on? God, he couldn’t breathe. Was this what death felt like? Had Selena poisoned him? Damn, he shouldn’t have eaten her mother’s enchilada casserole.

Sweat broke out on