Intuition

She scrambled to her feet, her shiny sandals catching the light and winking in the gloom. Leave it to Kylie Grant to treat a visit to a haunted house like it was some kind of prom.

“Looks like exploring this house can be hazardous to your health.” She flicked her long black hair behind her shoulders and it rippled down her back.

She glided past him and he caught a whiff of her musky perfume. She’d left the same scent in the hotel elevator and he’d gotten a strong dose of it when he’d planted his face between her breasts.

“I’m going upstairs to get my purse and flashlight.”

He swung the flashlight forward, waving it back and forth. “You’re going to need this to make your way up there.”

She held out her hand, and he rested the flashlight against his chest. “I’ll come with you.”

He clumped up the stairs behind her, his motorcycle boots thumping against each step. How had she not heard him from the third floor? When she crashed through the balustrade, she didn’t even call out for help. Matt hadn’t been sure what had caused the ruckus until he saw her dangling in midair. He hadn’t realized anyone else was in the house.

As he followed her up the stairs, he aimed his flashlight right at her sexy behind encased in those tight jeans. Who knew Kylie Grant had a derriere like that? All through high school she’d worn long, black skirts and silver-studded boots, which probably made her look chubbier than she really was.

Kylie spun around when she reached the third-floor landing, and Matt shifted the light to her face.

Her lips formed a thin line as she wedged a hand on her hip. How did she know he’d been checking out her assets?

“Maybe you’d better go first.” She tilted her chin toward the dark landing. “You know, rotten wood and all.”

He skimmed the light along the floor. “Didn’t you say you had a flashlight?”

“Must’ve burned out. I left it on the floor next to my purse.”

He squeezed past her on the top step and inhaled her perfume again—made him think of dark, mysterious ladies.

She stiffened.

Maybe those stories about Kylie being a mind reader were all true. Matt took two steps toward the broken banister and hunched his shoulders. “It’s cold up here.”

Kylie drew up beside him and nodded. Then she dipped and scooped up her purse and flashlight. She flicked the switch and another beam of light zigzagged across the jagged wood of the balustrade.

“It does work.” Matt didn’t recall seeing any light from the third floor as he’d made his way up to the second earlier tonight. He hadn’t seen or heard a thing until that crash.

“So, what do you think?” Kylie nudged a piece of wood hanging on by a few splinters. “Rotten?”

He broke off the piece and examined it beneath the light. “It doesn’t look that bad, but you never know with old houses.”

“You never know.”

Matt didn’t know if it was the damp chill seeping into his bones or the almost feral look in the lady’s eyes, but he wanted out of here.

He placed a hand on Kylie’s arm to draw her back from the abyss. “I didn’t even ask if you were okay. How’s your shoulder?”

She rotated it. “Fine, a little sore.”

“Bet you could use a drink. I know I could.” Actually, he could use a few, but he never overindulged…ever. At least not with alcohol. But other pleasures? Kylie’s skin felt smooth and warm to his touch, and she hadn’t even jerked away from him. Maybe saving her life had given him some stature in her eyes. God knows, he hadn’t had any before. She’d whipped right past him in the elevator, barely turning when she’d muttered her apology for bumping his shoulder.

“A—a drink?” She’d pivoted on her toes to face him and with her eyes wide, she looked ready for flight.

“Yeah, you know, that wet stuff we pour down our throats?”

Her long lashes dropped over her eyes and she finally shook him off. “I wouldn’t have guessed drinking was high on your list of fun activities, given your background.”

A slow smile curved his lips. She remembered more about him than she let on, but if she thought that shot was enough to deter his sudden fascination with her, she was as loony as her mom was reported to be.

“One drink. Our hotel even has a bar in the lobby. So we can have a drink and go to bed.”

Her lashes flew open.

He kept the smile on his face and shoved one hand in the pocket of his jeans. “You in your bed. Me in mine.”

She glanced up at the railing where both her and her mother’s bodies had dangled and shrugged. “I could use a drink.”

Matt followed the taillights of Kylie’s car back to the Coast Highway and then through the downtown streets of Coral Cove. He was probably way out of line renewing his acquaintance with Kylie. He had a job to do and couldn’t afford the distraction.

His hands tightened on the handlebar of his Harley. The last time he’d mixed pleasure with work, it had ended badly. But he had no intention of even telling Kylie about his business in Coral Cove. For all he knew, she’d be on her way out of town tomorrow.

He could enjoy a drink with a pretty girl, couldn’t he? He didn’t have to tell her his life story. Or listen to hers. Or bed her. Not that he’d get that lucky with Kylie.

He didn’t know why she’d agreed to a drink since half the time at Columbella she looked like she wanted to do him bodily harm. Must’ve been shaken by that fall. And who could blame her? If she hadn’t cracked her skull on that floor, she would’ve at least broken a leg or two.

Fate brought him to Columbella tonight. She must’ve been on her way here when he ran into her on the elevator. He’d practically followed her over. Maybe things were looking up. About damned time.

While she pulled into the guest parking lot, Matt parked his motorcycle in front of the hotel and kicked down the stand. He pulled off his helmet and tucked it under his arm as she strolled toward him.

She leveled a finger at his bike. “Still riding motorcycles.”

“For disliking me in high school, you sure do remember a lot about me.”

“You were kind of hard to miss. I think you reached your full height in ninth grade, didn’t you?”

He opened the hotel door for her. “Nah, I was probably about six two in ninth grade—still had a few inches to go. You were hardly inconspicuous yourself.”

“Me?” She smiled for the first time that night, a slow, sultry lift of one side of her mouth. “I always thought I flew under the radar.”

Kylie weaved through the tables in the hotel lobby bar and made a beeline for the grinning bartender. Matt would’ve preferred one of those little tables with the nuts in a plastic cup, but Kylie settled on a bar stool and planted her elbows on the shiny mahogany.

“I’ll have a glass of chardonnay, anything from California, and he’ll have…” She raised one eyebrow in his direction without much interest.

“I’d like a beer. What do you have on tap?”

“We have a good microbrew from Avila Beach.”

“Sounds good.”

Matt perched on the edge of the bar stool next to Kylie’s. “Do you want to sit at a table?”

“I’m good here.”

She’d been the one hanging from a banister, so he let it go. But he didn’t plan on letting her off easy. “What brings you back to Coral Cove and what were you doing at Columbella House?”

She smiled her thanks at the bartender and took a sip of the light gold liquid from her glass. She considered Matt over the rim of that glass. “Isn’t it obvious what I was doing at Columbella?”

Matt took a swig of beer and wrapped his hands around the mug. Was this a trick question? Any ideas he’d had about this encounter being an easy, sexy flirtation just fell flat. Kylie didn’t do easy…but she had the sexy part down to a T.

“Uh, were you exploring like me?”

She snorted into her wine and he found it oddly appealing. “Come on, Matt. You know my mom killed herself in that house, hung herself from that very landing.”

“So were you paying your respects? Putting old demons to rest?”

“Old demons.” Her nostrils flared and she flung back her long, black hair looking…witchy.

Like a totally hot, sexy witch.

“I guess you could say that.” She tossed back half the wine and turned toward him, her knees bumping his thigh. “You know I’m a psychic, don’t you?”

He choked on his beer, and it came fizzing out his nose. He grabbed a cocktail napkin and hid behind it. Had he known that? The kids in high school used to say Kylie could read minds or tell fortunes, but he just figured they’d said that because Kylie’s mom was some kind of gypsy fortune-teller. He just thought the mom was nuts. That’s what Matt’s dad used to say anyway—not that you could ever trust anything that came out of the old man’s mouth.

“You didn’t know?” Kylie hunched forward, her hands on her knees, the tips of her long hair brushing his thighs.

To hell with the fortune-telling. He wanted to kiss her right now.

She backed off and took another sip of her wine. Must’ve read his thoughts on that one, but it wouldn’t take much of a psychic to figure out his intentions since the crotch of his jeans had suddenly tightened and he was pretty sure he’d been staring at her luscious pink lips.

He cleared his throat. “I guess I knew that, sort of. So that’s why you’re back in Coral Cove?” He waved his arm toward the lobby. “Because if you’re staying here, I figure you’re just visiting.”

“It’s not exactly a visit, not social anyway.” She ran a fingertip along the rim of her glass. “And the stuff with my mom…it’s not my primary purpose for being here.”

He waiting politely, taking another sip of his beer, but she didn’t finish her thought, and he was left wondering about her primary purpose for being in Coral Cove. Instead, she wiggled her fingers in the air, signaling the bartender. “We’ll close out now, unless…” She threw a glance his way.

“No, I’m good, and I’ll get this.”

“That’s not necessary. In fact, I owe you.”

As she reached for her purse, her cell phone rang. She checked the display and said, “Excuse me a minute. I have to take this.”

She swiveled away from him and hunched over the bar.

Boyfriend? Husband? He hadn’t even asked. Didn’t want to know.

He lifted his hip from the bar stool to retrieve the card to his room and leaned toward Kylie, not that he was trying to eavesdrop or anything.

Her low, musical voice reached his ears. “Nothing yet, Mrs. Harris. I’ll call you as soon as I have something.”

A muscle ticked in Matt’s jaw. Mrs. Harris?

Kylie clicked her phone off and dropped it back into her purse. “Sorry. I was supposed to call that person earlier and got completely sidetracked.”

“By your mother.”

“Uh-huh.” She made a grab for the check. “I really didn’t take that call to avoid paying the bill.”

He scribbled his signature and room number on the bill and shoved it toward the bartender. Harris, common name. There were lots of Harrises in the world, right?

The man on the bar stool next to Kylie’s spun around, a fake smile claiming half his face.

“Kylie Grant, right?”

Kylie jerked back from the man’s eager-puppy-dog enthusiasm. “That’s right. Oh, you’re Tyler Davis.”

“Correct.” The man’s teeth gleamed in the low light of the bar. “Mayor Davis now.”

“Mayor of Coral Cove? That’s—” she turned to Matt and rolled her eyes “—impressive.”

“I heard a rumor about your presence in town, Kylie. Is it true?”

“Depends on the rumor.” She narrowed her eyes and Matt almost felt sorry for Mayor Davis as a chill settled on the bar.

“Not a good idea, Kylie.” Davis wagged his finger in Kylie’s face and Matt felt like breaking it off. “We should let sleeping dogs lie.”

“And murdered dogs? Should we let those lie, as well, Mr. Mayor?”

Matt drew his brows over his nose and tried to catch Kylie’s eye, but she’d zeroed in on Davis.

“The girl ran off. There was never any evidence of foul play, and with the Coral Cove Music Festival about to get underway we don’t want any bad publicity surrounding the event.”

Matt froze and his jaw tightened. What the hell was Davis talking about?

Kylie’s lip curled. “You were mayor at the time Bree Harris disappeared, too, weren’t you? You and that Chief Evans. That’s why there was no evidence of foul play—you and the chief weren’t looking for any.”

Davis hopped off the stool. “Just don’t stir up any trouble for the festival. This town has endured enough this summer. We deserve to end it on a high note.”

Kylie muttered something under her breath as Davis sauntered away, stopping to shake hands with a couple by the window.

Matt planted his hands on his knees and swiveled around to face her. “What are you doing in Coral Cove, Kylie?”

She blew a wisp of hair from her face. “I guess you can’t keep secrets in small towns, or at least not many. I’m here to investigate the disappearance of Bree Harris. She fell off the face of the earth at the time of the music festival three years ago.”

Matt squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t happening.

She touched his forearm and he nearly jumped out of his skin. It was the first time she’d voluntarily touched him all night…and it felt good. At least it would’ve if she were here for a different reason.

“What’s wrong with you? Ever since that joke of a mayor stopped by, you’ve looked like a volcano ready to blow its top.”

He skimmed his fingers through his hair. “You’re in Coral Cove to do a job, and that job is finding Bree Harris. Did her parents hire you?”

She tilted her head and her long hair slid over one shoulder. “Well, sort of. Her mother hired me. Why? What’s wrong?”

Matt smacked the bar and shoved to his feet. “What’s wrong? Bree Harris’s father hired me to do the same job.”

Chapter Three

Kylie dropped back onto the leather stool from which she’d half risen. Matt Conner was here for Bree Harris? She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead.

Matt Conner. What had she heard about the bad boy of Coral Cove High through the grapevine over the years? She’d been so preoccupied by her mission and so disoriented from her fall and so distracted by the way Matt’s jeans hugged his…

She shook her head. She’d never bothered to ask him what he did for a living.

Cop. That’s what she’d heard. LAPD. The ludicrousness of Matt becoming a cop had even filtered into her universe.

She grabbed her drained wineglass and dumped the final few drops of wine down her throat. What was a cop doing out of his jurisdiction working a three-year-old missing persons case?

He’d been watching her through dark slits of eyes, his sensuous lips a stern line. At what point during this wild night had she noticed his lips?

“I-in what capacity are you here?” She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of revealing how much she knew about his life since he’d left high school. She’d already done that and hadn’t liked the smug look on his face.

He crossed his arms over his massive chest, and Kylie swallowed. Hadn’t he been tall and skinny as a teenager? Now he was tall and…built.

“I’m a private investigator. Mr. Harris hired me to look into Bree’s disappearance.” He shifted back, almost straddling the stool. “He didn’t tell me I’d have a partner.”

A P.I., not a cop. The grapevine was wrong.

She grabbed her purse from the bar and hitched it over her shoulder. “I don’t work with partners.”

“You call what you do work?”

“Do you even know what I do?”

He snorted. “I have a pretty good idea. You sit in front of a Ouija board and say in a spooky voice—Where’s Bree?”

The blood pumped hot and fast through her veins and it had nothing to do with the way Matt’s T-shirt molded to his perfect pecs. “You’re a bigger idiot now than when you were riding fast bikes and playing loud music in high school.”

Okay, she had to stop thinking about the love-hate obsession she’d had with Matt when she was a stupid teenager.

She drew in a deep breath and tucked her hair behind one ear. “I’ve worked with police departments all over the country, even the FBI, to help with cases. And my success rate is phenomenal. How many cases have you solved lately? Or have you been too busy following cheating spouses around?”

His eye twitched, and his hands curled into fists against big biceps. If she were a man, she’d be very afraid right now.

“I’ve solved a few cases.”

“Yeah, whatever.” A thought slammed against her brain and she drew back her shoulders. “You were following me, weren’t you? Mayor Whatsisname knew why I was here, so it’s no leap that you knew, too. You followed me to Columbella House because you thought I was tracking a lead on the Harris case and you wanted to horn in on it.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He slammed a fist on the bar and the bartender dropped a glass in the sink.

“Really?” Her heart skittered in her chest. “Because it sure felt like someone pushed me through that railing…and you’re big enough to do it.”

He threw his head back and laughed. This time the bartender and the couple by the window openly stared at them.

“You’re nuts. First of all, why would I be pushing you if I was trying to steal your info? Secondly, wouldn’t you have noticed someone behind you on the landing? I mean, I’m no ballerina. I think you would’ve heard me coming.”

“I—I…” She bit her lip. Oh, to hell with it, he had her pegged as a loon anyway. “I was in a trance.”

That wiped the sarcastic smile right off his ruggedly handsome face.

“You mean like—” he closed his eyes and held his arms out to his sides and hummed “—om.”

She poked him in the chest, and his eyes flew open. “A trance, not meditation.”

“So what happens in a trance and how do you get there?” He parked his very fine rear end on the bar stool and hunched forward.

She studied him through narrowed eyes. The man could change moods faster than a rat slipping beneath a door. “Are you serious? You really want to know?”

The bartender edged toward them, a towel bunched in his hands. “Are you folks going to order another round?”

“I’ll have a club soda, lots of lime.” Matt cocked an eyebrow at her. “Do you want another?”

She just might need another glass of wine to unwind from the roller coaster named Big Matt. “Yes.”

“Does that prove it?” Matt pointed at the bartender spritzing club soda into a glass.

“What?”

“That I’m serious. I really want to know how you do what you do.”

“Even though you don’t believe in it.”

“You believe in it.”

She rubbed the back of her neck and glanced at her watch. “We’re going to close this place down.”

“It’ll be the first time I’ve closed down a bar, but I’m always up for new experiences.” He flicked the straw out of his glass and downed half the fizzy, clear liquid.

Matt’s dad had been the town drunk, and Matt obviously didn’t want to follow the same path. That gave them even more in common since she had no intention of following Mom’s path either.

She peeled her gaze away from Matt’s strong hand wrapped around his sweating glass. The man oozed masculinity and confidence. No wonder he’d been annoyed when he discovered she was on the same case. Why hadn’t Mrs. Harris told her Mr. Harris had hired a P.I.?

“Trance?”

His low voice, almost an intimate whisper, was enough to put her under again. He had entranced her during high school. He was the rebel without a cause, who had all the teenage girls swooning.

And Kylie hated him because even though he was as much of an outcast as she was, he still went after the popular girls…and got them, much to their parents’ dismay. The parental units didn’t have to worry for long though, because Matt never had a girlfriend. He swooped in, swept some cheerleader off her feet for a few weeks, shook her pom-poms and then deposited her back onto the football field. Kylie had always figured he’d done it just to piss off the jocks.

She huffed out a breath and took a sip of wine. “Trance.”

“How does it happen?”

“It can happen at any time, but I’ve learned to control it, to block the sensations. Some days I’m in a heightened state of sensitivity.”

“Like today.”

She nodded. “On days like that, I go with the flow. I don’t try to block anything. If I have something from the victim, I can pick up vibes from it. I guess it is sort of like meditation.”

He snapped his fingers. “See? I did have it right.”

“I close my eyes. I concentrate. Tonight at Columbella…” She hunched her shoulders and gulped another mouthful of wine.

“Rough, huh?” He skimmed his cool fingertips along her forearm. “That house is enough to raise the hackles of someone who isn’t even sensitive…like me.”

She stared into Matt’s dark eyes and got a little lost. At this moment, with his fingers lightly resting on her wrist, Kylie couldn’t completely dismiss his sensitivity.

“So you were in one of those optimal states and hightailed it to Columbella—to do what?”

“I already told you, Matt. My mom hung herself from that landing. I went there to…get some closure.”

“And instead you fell through the railing.” He tapped her wrist bone once before withdrawing his hand. “That’s some kinda closure.”

“I sensed fear when I was up there.” She traced her finger around the base of her wineglass. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Anyone who commits suicide has to experience some fear, or are you implying your mother didn’t kill herself?”

Was she? That thought had been a niggling doubt in her mind for a while. “I don’t know. The fall didn’t give me a chance to sense much more than a swirl of emotions.”

“And to sense someone behind you before the fall.”

She raised her brows. “Oh, you believe me now? I thought you figured that was a bunch of bull.”

“I thought your suspicions of me were a bunch of bull. The rest? You’re the medium.”

“You’re good.”

“Excuse me?” He choked on his drink and grabbed a cocktail napkin to wipe his mouth. “I’m good at a lot of things. Which talent are you referring to?”

Her cheeks grew warm in the dim light. Why did everything Matt said have a sexual connotation to it? Or was that her spin?

“When I first told you Mrs. Harris hired me to find out what happened to her daughter, you weren’t too happy about it, implied I was a fraud. Now you’re cozying up to me and opening your mind to my gift.”

His slow smile twisted his mouth, and he waved his hand in the space between them. “This ain’t cozy.”

“You know what I mean.” She crumpled a napkin in her clammy hand. Matt had sex appeal coming out of his pores, but she didn’t plan on becoming one more conquest for him. “Why are you so interested in my psychic powers now when fifteen minutes ago you were scoffing at them?”

He hunched a broad shoulder and drained his glass. “I’m a realist. Mr. Harris hired me and Mrs. Harris hired you. Even though I’m not too keen on having a partner, my goal is to give peace to the Harris family, to find out what happened to Bree, get the girl some justice.”

Slapped her down. Now her infantile comment about not working with partners sounded…infantile.

“Deal.” She extended her hand for a shake. His large hand engulfed hers and he applied a quick pressure to her fingers. She extricated her hand from his grasp and drummed her fingers on the bar to keep them busy. “Do you have anything?”

“Just got here yesterday, but I was wondering about the possibility of Brunswick being involved.”

“The algebra teacher?”

“The serial-killing algebra teacher.”

“Yeah, I heard all about those women he murdered just to prove something to Michelle Girard. Creepy. But how would Bree Harris be a part of that?”

“You know Brunswick also murdered two prostitutes, don’t you? A guy like that doesn’t decide one day to start killing to impress a woman.”