Deadly Obsession

“That was my question.”

“Maybe it fell into place when the door closed.”

“Let’s see...the door was closed, the hook engaged, and when I opened the door, the light was off. Are you telling me you turned off the light, as well? And if you weren’t pushed down the stairs, you must have fallen.”

“I didn’t fall down the stairs.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Then why were you lying on the ground?”

She stared up at him. “I don’t know.”

“Well, one thing’s for sure.”

“What’s that?”

“You can’t stay here alone.”

Jillian stiffened. “This is my house.”

“Yeah, but something’s not right here.”

She glanced around as if still getting her bearings. “Some say it’s haunted.”

“And you?”

She shrugged. “I think it needs work, but it’s my home.”

“Lady, you’re crazy. The best thing that could happen to this dump is to run a bulldozer over it.”

Jillian’s chin lifted. “That is not going to happen. I have workers scheduled to restore the house to its former glory. You wait. It’s going to be beautiful.”

Chance snorted. “It’s your funeral.”

“The only way I’m going to die in this house is from old age.” She pushed away from him and headed back to the front of the house. “You can go back to the B and B. I don’t need your help.”

“Can a ghost help you unload that couch off the trailer?”

“No. But I’d dump the damned thing on the ground before I let you touch it.”

Chapter 3

Anger forced back the last vestiges of the fuzzy gray mist that had clouded Jillian’s head when Chance had found her lying on the basement floor. “Don’t you have a bachelor party to plan?”

“I’m told you have everything to do with the wedding completely planned.”

“I do.”

“Good, because I came to help. Now stop being stubborn.”

“I might be stubborn, but you are a jerk.” She stepped through the open front door and marched down the steps. On the last one, the rotted board gave way. She pitched forward and would have landed on her face had Chance not been right behind her and caught her, pulling her back against his front. He wrapped his arms around her middle and held on.

Her pulse pounding, Jillian inhaled a long, steadying breath. Then she pried the arms from around her. “Thank you,” she said grudgingly. “But I still don’t need your help.”

“Maybe you don’t, but I’m not leaving without you. So while I’m here, you might as well let me help you carry that couch.”

She’d had two high school boys help her load the couch from her apartment into the trailer. The best she could do by herself would be to scoot it to the edge of the trailer and dump in on the ground. Alone, she’d never get it up the porch stairs and into the house. Even with a hand truck, she wouldn’t be able to get it through the door. God, she hated letting Chance help. After he’d called her stubborn and said those awful things about her house, she really disliked the man.

“Okay. But just the couch,” she muttered.

Together, they lifted the couch out of the trailer and carried it up the porch steps.

Jillian lost her grip twice on the heavy piece of furniture and had to stop. By the time they had it in the house, her back hurt. When they finally got it to the back of the house, Jillian was questioning the couch’s very existence. Why hadn’t she sold it in a yard sale rather than move it?

With the couch shoved up against a wall in the room at the back of the house Jillian had designated to store all her boxes and furniture, she straightened, pressing a hand to the small of her aching back.

Chance stared across the sofa at her. “Why were you in the basement?”

Jillian closed her eyes, trying to remember why she’d gone down there in the first place. When it came to her, she opened her eyes wide. “I heard a kitten.” She spun on her heels and hurried to the kitchen.

“No way.” Chance caught up with her before she reached the basement door. “You’re not going down there.”

“But I heard a kitten. It might have been separated from its mother. I couldn’t leave it down there.”

“Then let me look for it.” Chance stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “You don’t need to fall down the stairs a second time.”

“I didn’t fall,” she insisted.

“Okay, so you didn’t fall. You were just taking a nap on the floor when I found you.”

Jillian hiked her brows. “The kitten?”

“Promise you’ll stay put?”

She glared at him.

He didn’t budge.

At that moment, the animal’s cries sounded from the darkness.

“Okay,” Jillian said. “I promise to stay here. Now, will you go?”

He grinned for the first time since they’d met. The expression lightened his face and made her heart flutter. When he wasn’t scowling, Chance was an incredibly attractive man.

She shook herself, pushing back that errant thought.

When he turned toward the stairs, her breath caught and she blurted, “Wait.”

“Why?”

Jillian didn’t answer. She spun and raced out the front door, dived into the passenger side of Dave’s truck and retrieved the flashlight she’d seen on the rear floorboard. Back into the house she skidded to a stop in front of Chance, breathing hard.

“Here.” She grabbed his hand and slapped the flashlight into his open palm.

“Thank you.” He closed his fingers around the light and squeezed her hand. Then he disappeared into the basement’s shadows, the beam of the flashlight marking his course.

Jillian stood at the top of the stairs, her throat tight, her breathing ragged.

She found herself praying he would hurry. “You sure you don’t want me to help?”

“You promised to stay up there.”

“Yeah, but two could find the kitten faster.”

“And if a ghost locks the door again, who would rescue the both of us?”

Jillian bit down on her retort. “There are no such things as ghosts.”

“Then explain the hook,” Chance’s disembodied voice said from the darkness.

She couldn’t, so she remained quiet in the kitchen, throwing a glance over her shoulder every so often as chills rippled down her spine. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but she couldn’t help feeling she was being watched.

A miniature, snarling whine echoed off the walls below.

“Come here, you little poltergeist,” Chance muttered.

More spats from the kitten were followed by a hearty curse.

“Damn it!”

A minute later, a light shone at the bottom of the stairs. Chance started up with a bundle of rags in one hand, the flashlight in the other. “I found one of your ghosts.”

Jillian reached for the wriggling wad of cloth.

“Careful,” Chance said. “He’s got some sharp claws.”

A small gray head poked out of the fabric and big blue eyes shone up at her.

Jillian gathered the cloth-wrapped kitten in her hands and carried him into the evening light streaming in through the dirty back window. Once she unwrapped the feline, she could see the animal was scrawny, underweight and malnourished. “Ah, poor baby. Where’s your mama?”

“Poor baby?” Chance snorted. “He nearly scratched my eyes out. Just like a cat. Try to help one, and what do you get? Mauled.”

Jillian rolled her eyes in his direction. “Really?” His laughing eyes made her heartbeat stutter. Then she saw the line of red across his cheek. “Oh, dear, he did get you good.” The kitten curled into Jillian’s hands. “Come out to the truck. I have a fresh bottle of water, and I know where to find my box of towels.”

“Point me in the right direction. I’m not sure I trust either one of you at this point.” He led the way through the house and held the door for her as she carried the kitten through.

“I gave you the option of leaving,” she reminded him.

He shook his head. “Not an option. Too dangerous for a lone woman.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “I’m going to live here eventually.” She deposited the kitten, rags and all, on the front seat of Dave’s truck and retrieved the bottle of water in the console. “By myself.” When she straightened, she was startled by how close Chance stood. She froze, her breath hitching in her lungs.

Chance took the bottle but didn’t move away, effectively trapping her between the truck door and his body. “Preferably after you’ve had good dead-bolt locks and a security system installed.”

“Ha.” Jillian swallowed hard and lifted her chin. “My money might last through new dead-bolt locks, but if the choice comes between running water and a security system, I’d prefer to bathe indoors, thank you very much.”

Chance’s gaze captured hers for a long moment, and then the corners of his lips quirked upward. “Despite being a pain in the butt, you’re kind of cute when you’re passionate about your water.” He chucked her beneath her chin like a kid sister and stepped back.

Jillian dragged in a steadying breath and closed the truck door to keep the kitten inside. She rounded to the other side and closed the driver’s side, glad for a few seconds to gather her scattered wits. By the time she met Chance at the back of the open trailer, she was well in control. Jillian refused to let the arrogant man get under her skin again. Whether it was his high-handedness or when he softened and called her cute, she couldn’t afford to let him shift her focus from all that had to be done.

Yet his mere presence with his broad shoulders and ruggedly handsome face made it hard for her to concentrate. What had she been doing?

Chance held up the water bottle. “If you’ll point to the box, I’ll find a towel.”

She turned away from his laughing gaze as heat filled her cheeks. Damn the man. Jillian studied the neatly stacked boxes containing all of her worldly goods, some of them items her mother had treasured. “There.” She pointed to a box. “The one marked Bathroom Towels.” When she backed away, she bumped into Chance and almost tripped over his feet.

He gripped her arm and steadied her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Maybe you should see a doctor. You could have suffered a concussion in your fall down the stairs.”

“I didn’t fall down the stairs.” She pressed to his chest, trying to establish her balance. “I must have passed out.”

“All the more reason to see the doctor.”

“I don’t have time to visit a doctor, and I feel just fine.” If fine was finding it hard to breathe with the man standing so near. She tipped her head toward the truck. “Could you get the box down?”

He held her a moment longer and she didn’t breathe until he finally let go. “Hang on to this.” He handed her the water bottle and climbed into the trailer, found the box and carried it to the porch.

Jillian stood back, wondering what the hell was wrong with her.

Chance pulled a fancy knife from his pocket, unfolded a blade and slit through the tape securing the box. Inside was a stack of freshly laundered towels.

Pulling herself together, Jillian hurried forward, selected a cloth and opened the bottled water.

Chance held out his hand. “I can take care of it myself.”

“No, let me. I made you go back in after the kitten.”

“Yeah, but I would have gone in whether you asked me to or not.”

She wet the cloth and capped the bottle, setting it to the side. Now she had to touch the man who’d stirred up so many emotions since finding her in the basement. The smart thing to do would be to hand him the cloth and let him take care of his own injury. But now that she’d insisted, she had to follow through. If she treated him like a client injured on a tour of one of her home listings, she shouldn’t have a problem. Squaring her shoulders, she set her jaw and commanded, “Sit.”

* * *

Chance responded to the command in her voice, though he almost laughed out loud at the play of emotions crossing Jillian’s face. “Yes, ma’am.” He dropped down onto a porch step.

Jillian settled on one riser higher and touched the damp cloth to his cheek. “This might hurt a little,” she said, leaning close.

“I’ve had worse injuries in the war.” More than he could count. As an army ranger, scrapes, broken bones, concussions, shrapnel and gunshot wounds were expected.

As she moved nearer, the scent of herbal shampoo filled his nostrils and made him want to pull Jillian into his lap to explore further.

“That’s right. You’re Nova’s friend from the military.”

He dipped his head.

“Do you work with the same organization Nova works with now?” Jillian cupped the back of his head and gently dabbed at the kitten’s mark.

With her hand tickling the nape of his neck and her breast pressing into his arm, Chance could barely breathe. “I do.”

“What exactly is it you do?” She rinsed the cloth with more water and squeezed out the excess moisture.

“Whatever is needed,” Chance responded, his voice tight, desire pressing hard against the fly of his jeans. Thankfully, he didn’t have to go into detail about his job. Much of what he did with Stealth Operations Specialists was classified and only those with a need to know were given the details of any operation.

Her lips twisted. “Let me guess, if you tell me what you do—”

“I’d have to kill you.” He captured her wrist in his hand. “I think you’ve done enough. We should finish the work and get back to the B and B.”

Jillian stared into his eyes.

A few short inches separated them, but all Chance could think about was her pretty pink mouth and what she might taste like if he dared kiss her.

Jillian ran her tongue around those pink lips, sending Chance’s control flying.

“Do you realize how crazy you’re making me?”

She shook her head, her eyes rounding. Her gaze shifted to his mouth.

Like a moth drawn to the flame, Chance couldn’t resist the temptation. He slipped his hand beneath her hair at the back of her head and dragged her forward until their lips almost touched. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he breathed, praying she wouldn’t when the temptation to kiss her threatened to overwhelm him.

Jillian closed the distance between them, her lips brushing his. They were so soft, full and luscious. Chance increased the pressure on the back of her neck and claimed her mouth, tonguing the seam of her lips until she opened to him.

He swept in, caressing her tongue in a long, slow glide. She tasted of mint and chocolate—sweet, decadent and undeniably irresistible.

Jillian dropped the cloth on the step beside him and ran her hand up the front of his chest, linking it with the other behind his neck. She pressed her breasts against him, stirring an ever-deepening hunger inside.

Chance pulled her across his lap without breaking the kiss, drowning in the touch, taste and feel of her body pressed to his.

A loud crash sounded inside the house, bursting through the cocoon of lust surrounding them.

Chance ducked, his pulse leaped, and he would have flattened himself to the ground, but with Jillian across his lap, that wasn’t an option.

Jillian squealed and pushed to her feet.

Chance rose as well, his attention on the house.

“Stay here,” he said.

“Staying,” she agreed.

His heart hammering from his close encounter with Jillian, Chance ran into the house. With a quick sweep of the rooms on the first floor, Chance located the source of the sound. A four-by-eight-foot sheet of drywall lay on the floor of the living room, having fallen from the stack leaning against the wall.

Chance lifted it and leaned it with the others. When he’d passed the stack before, the individual sheets had seemed to be leaning at an angle so they wouldn’t easily fall. A gust of wind would not have been enough to push over one of the heavy drywall sheets. He glanced around, his gaze going to the dusty wooden floor.

There were several sets of footprints overlaying each other from where he, Jillian and the workers had all passed. Was there someone else in the house? Someone who could have slipped the hook in the loop on the cellar door and knocked one of the drywall sheets to the ground? Chance didn’t like it. Something didn’t feel right in his gut. And his gut was seldom wrong.

He walked back out to the porch, where Jillian stood, her hair rumpled and her lips swollen from their kiss.

“Find anything?”

“A sheet of drywall fell over.” He didn’t go any deeper. He could be wrong. “I set it upright.”

She clapped her hands together. “In that case, let’s get going.”

“Right. This stuff isn’t moving itself. And we need to get back to the McGregor B and B.”

Jillian smiled. “Exactly. If we’re late, Molly will send her brother, a member of the Cape Churn Police Department, to check on us.”

Chance got to work. He wanted to get done and get back before dark—and before something else happened in Jillian’s haunted house.

Chapter 4

Jillian’s back ached and she counted the minutes until she could take a pain pill and crawl into bed. But she had to take the trailer back to town, drop it off and then go to the B and B where Molly kept supper for her and Chance.

Though thankful for his help, she wasn’t sure she should be thankful for the kiss. Working side by side, bumping into each other in the confines of the trailer and the small room where her things would be stored had been near torture. Every time they touched, a shower of sparks set off an electrical current inside her.

Chance’s broad shoulders took up a lot of space and were hard to avoid. When they carried the last two boxes into the house, she practically threw hers down. “Well, that does it.” She brushed the dust from her hands and glanced at Chance. “You can head back to the B and B. I have to drop off the trailer and return the truck to my friend.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

Jillian’s heart did a double backflip. “That’s not necessary. I’m sure you’re tired from your flight and all the work you got wrangled into. I can manage it on my own.”

“Just the same, I’ll go with you and do the driving. Since you can’t seem to recall falling down the stairs, I don’t feel comfortable letting you drive.”

“I told you, I didn’t fall down the stairs.”

“Doesn’t matter. If you can’t remember why you ended up lying on the floor of the basement, I have to assume you were unconscious at some point.” He held out his hand. “The keys?”

She opened her mouth to continue the argument. One look at the determined set of Chance’s rock-hard jaw and Jillian snapped her mouth shut. With a frustrated sigh, she turned toward the truck. “The keys are in the ignition.” She climbed into the passenger side and fished the kitten out from under the seat, holding it against her chest like a shield.

Chance slipped into the driver’s seat.

“What about your vehicle?” Jillian asked.

“It’ll be here in the morning.”

She frowned. His response implied that he would be there in the morning, as well. Something told her she’d do well to keep her distance from Nova’s best man. All that testosterone and those hunky muscles could derail a girl weaker than she. Butterflies fluttered against the walls of her belly. Okay, so she wasn’t so strong against an extraordinary specimen like Chance.

Jillian had been around a few of the Stealth Operations Specialists who’d moved to the area. Each one had improved the scenery—Nova with his dark, exotic looks, and Creed Thomas with his Native American high cheekbones and solid strength, were both forces to be reckoned with. Even Nicole Steele, or Tazer, as they lovingly nicknamed her, was kick-ass, with years of experience making her as much of a lethal weapon as Creed and Nova. Now Chance...

Jillian pulled at the collar of her plaid shirt, the interior of the truck suddenly too warm. “How long will you be staying?”

“Until after the wedding. Maybe longer.”

Jillian swallowed hard on a groan. “Are you staying in one of the cottages?” She crossed her fingers the way she had when she was a little girl, hoping he’d say yes. If she was staying at the B and B and Chance was, too, what was the possibility of avoiding him?

Slim to none. Then again, he was the best man in the wedding she was planning.

“I’m staying at the B and B.”

It was her luck. At least she’d only be there until the plumber got the water running and the electrician finished the rewiring. Hopefully, that would only be a couple more days. She could live with the dust and clutter of demolition and the rebuilding effort. Besides, Molly and Nova needed all the space they could get for Nova’s family members.

As they entered town, Jillian pointed to Runyan’s Convenience Store and Gas Station. “This is where I drop the trailer, and I’d like to put gas in the truck before I return it to its owner.”

Chance turned in to the parking lot and backed the trailer in between other rental trailers parked at the rear of the building.

Jillian’s lips twisted. “If I had parked the trailer, it would have taken a lot longer. I’m not that adept at maneuvering trailers, or driving trucks for that matter.” She gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

“Just trying to help. Seems like you’ve bit off more than a mouthful with the wedding and a total house renovation all at once.”

She nodded. “I’ve been planning this wedding for more than a year. The house was an opportunity that just came up, and I jumped on it.”

“Why that particular house? Why not something closer to town? Something that doesn’t need so many repairs?”

Jillian pushed open her door and dropped down from the truck. Everyone she knew had asked the same question. Lately, she’d asked herself the same as the bills mounted and the work seemed to take forever. She met Chance at the tailgate.

While Chance unhooked the lights and hitch, Jillian stroked the kitten and thought about her answer to his questions.

“I’ve been in Cape Churn for two years. I didn’t plan on moving from Portland, but a weekend getaway turned into a move to live here. Something about Cape Churn called to me.” She shrugged. “Instinct or gut feeling, it was like coming home. I’ve been renting ever since, waiting for the right house.”

“Doesn’t make sense to rent.”

“Tell me about it. And I’m a real estate agent.” She laughed. “Trust me, I thought I’d seen every house in Cape Churn and the surrounding area. Somehow I’d missed this one. The bank called, wanting me to list it. They’d been sitting on it for years and were tired of paying the taxes. When I came out to see it, I fell in love with the place. Like Cape Churn, it called to me.” Jillian shrugged. “That’s why I bought it. I know it sounds silly and maybe a little superstitious, but sometimes you have to go with your gut.”

“Yeah.” Chance straightened, his lips thinning into a line, his jaw tight. “Is there some paperwork you have to sign?” he said, his voice clipped, his whole attitude changing from casual curiosity to rigid and dark.

“What?” Jillian stared at him. “Was it something I said?”

He shook his head. “No. We just need to get back to the B and B.”

“Give me a minute to fill up the tank and I’ll be ready to go.”

“I’ll get it.” Chance didn’t give her the chance to climb into the truck. He was in and driving around to the pumps before she could form a protest.

What the hell had happened to make him suddenly so closed off and angry?

Jillian shook her head and followed the truck on foot.

Bud Runyan, the owner of the gas station, stepped out of the building. “Miss Taylor, I expected you to use that trailer for at least another day.”

She smiled at the gray-haired man with the grizzled beard and deep-set wrinkles. “I expected to use it for another day, too.” Jillian tipped her head toward Chance. “I was fortunate to enlist help in unloading.”

Mr. Runyan’s eyes narrowed. “This your boyfriend from Portland?”

Jillian didn’t remind Mr. Runyan she’d been there over two years and rarely went back to Portland. If she’d had a relationship, it would have long since disintegrated. “No, sir. Chance is here for the wedding.”