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

He reached for his cell phone and quickly called Tye. It rang once, twice.

Answer!

“Did you know that you have the worst timing? I’m with someone.”

“You’re always with someone, so that’s nothing new. Listen, I think Selena has gone off the deep end.”

“The deep end?”

“Yeah, I think she wants to kill me.”

Tye chuckled. “She wouldn’t be the first.”

Trent ran his hand through his hair. “It’s not funny.”

“You’re serious?”

“Why the hell do you think I’m calling?”

“I can’t see it.” The humor left Tye’s voice. “From the little I was around her today, she didn’t strike me as being even a little crazy. Are you sure she’s not pulling your leg? That would be a lot more plausible.”

What he’d seen in the kitchen hadn’t been plausible. No way, no how. Selena had acted like an escapee from an institution that housed the criminally insane.

“She might be trying to scare you away. Did you think about that? If you run, she wins.”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed.

That had to be it. But why had he seen desire in her eyes before he’d left? He knew damn well she’d wanted him as much…

Paige!

Her cousin had probably reminded her of why Selena was at the hotel. Why else would Selena go from hot to cold? Paige had warned Selena away from him. This was all her fault. He was such a fool—again.

“I guess you’re right. Sorry to bother you.”

“Hey, that’s what brothers are for.”

They said goodbye, and Trent closed his phone.

Was Selena crazy or just trying to win? She definitely had a competitive streak. But did he want to take that chance?

He looked around the room, stopping when his gaze landed on a ladder-back chair. He carried it to the door, jamming it under the knob, then testing to make sure it wouldn’t give. He damn sure didn’t want Selena sneaking into his room tonight and slicing his throat—just in case she had lost her mind.

Damn, how could he be in such a good mood when he got back to the hotel and have everything turn to crap in the space of a few minutes?

He brought the bottle of wine out of the grocery sack. What he wouldn’t give for a corkscrew.

Damn, it suddenly occurred to him that he wouldn’t be having sex, either. Bummer.

Ah, man, he could picture Selena naked and beckoning him to make love to her. He sank into the fantasy. He would lower his body down to hers. She’d be naked, biting her bottom lip in anticipation.

As he reached to caress her breasts, he caught the glint of metal from the knife that lay beside her, and his daydream became a nightmare.

Life could be a real pain.

Dixie examined her fingernails. “When I was alive we didn’t have that pretty stuff you paint on your nails. The world has made a lot of progress since my time.” She looked across the kitchen at Selena. “You do realize Trent thinks you’re ready to slice him open, don’t you?”

Selena folded the mirror closed. Oh, yeah, she’d watched his expression change from pleasure to pain to fear. She knew without a doubt that he’d planned a very different night for them, and a deep burning ache spread through her. If she hadn’t pretended to be crazy, they’d be having sex right now. Hell, maybe she was crazy. She’d denied herself a night of sensual lovemaking just for revenge.

But damn it, he was planning to write a book about her! The challenge was one thing, the book something entirely different.

“You’re regretting what you did.” Dixie told her what she already knew.

She’d still had time to convince him that ghosts existed. Not anymore. Nope, he was going to keep his distance. She’d squashed whatever was starting to blossom between them.

Squaring her shoulders, she looked at Dixie. “I don’t care.”

She blew out the candles and marched down the hall and up the stairs. When she was even with Trent’s door she stopped, an evil smile forming. Oh, she’d give him something to write about. She’d give him enough to fill three books.

He was moving about in his room. Her smile widened. More like pacing. Yep, he was worried. Did he think she’d slit his throat while he was sleeping? He tempted her to do just that.

She scratched on his door. His pacing stopped. By the time she got through with him, he’d think twice about writing his slanderous book. He’d be too worried about retribution.

“Trent?” His name trembled from her lips with just enough scratchiness in it to send apprehensive shivers up his spine—she hoped. Linda Blair from The Exorcist had nothing on her. “Trent?”

“Uh, yeah? Did you need something?”

“I want your body,” she said in a low, throaty voice.

Silence.

“Don’t you want me, too?” she asked, her voice gravelly.

“I’m kind of tired. You know, all that searching for…uh…bones and…”

“We could have hot sex. I could do a lot of new…things to your body. I could set you free.”

Silence.

“I have a…headache.”

She grinned, leaning against the door. “Would you like me to call Paige? She could brew you a potion.”

“No!” He cleared his throat. “What I mean is that I took an aspirin a few minutes ago.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

“Good night, then.” She could almost hear his sigh of relief. There was no sense in letting him off the hook this easy. Before she walked away, she jiggled the doorknob for good measure.

Did he really think she would slice and dice him during the night? She certainly hoped so. If not, he would by the time she was finished. She’d teach him it wasn’t nice to mess with a psychic. She hoped he didn’t get a bit of sleep!

The next morning she went downstairs as if nothing unusual had happened the night before. Just like the other mornings, Trent leaned against the counter while waiting for the coffee to finish dripping into the glass pot.

“Good morning,” she said cheerily.

He jumped, and turned. Damn, he really looked like crap. His hair was mussed, and dark stubble gave him