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“It’s crazy, I know. But yeah, that’s it. So now you know about my love-hate relationship with Perky. I love that the story got so much attention, but I hate that it’s the story everyone remembers me for.” She divided the rest of the coffee between them and capped the thermos. “And now I’m stuck writing about this haunted building that doesn’t look like it’s haunted after all.”
“Why don’t you find something else to write about?”
“Believe me, I’d love nothing better. But my editor is hell bent on this story. And since I’m hell bent on getting a job at Florida! I don’t have much choice. Hence, I’m stuck here for the night.” She glanced at him. “You, on the other hand, don’t really have to stay, you know.”
He nodded slowly. “I know.”
Her brows shot up. “Does that mean you trust me with your precious building?”
“I trust that you aren’t going to vandalize it, if that’s what you mean. But I’m still not about to let you spend the night here alone.”
She hesitated, then asked, “Tom, when you walked in on me using the ghost detector app, did you smell anything…unusual?”
“Like what?”
“Just anything that you hadn’t smelled before.”
The only thing he’d caught was a whiff of her perfume. Something expensive. Sexy. Elusive. Just like her. “No, nothing unusual.”
She looked disappointed. He wished for her sake they had seen something. Anything. But of course, that wasn’t going to happen because there was no such thing as ghosts. Too bad he couldn’t make one materialize so she could write her story. He had a sudden urge to beat the shit out of this Chris Dougal guy.
He thought briefly about reaching out to kiss her. She’d either shut him down or kiss him back. Yes or no. At least it would be out in the open. Must be the whiskey making him think crazy. Because kissing Allie Grant would be a huge mistake.
Tom pulled a blanket over him and laid down. “I’m going to sleep. I have a big day tomorrow.”
“Sure. I’ll just…hang around.”
He tried to sound innocent. Non-threatening. “You’re welcome to the other side of the mattress.”
She snorted. “Right.”
Smart girl.
*~*~*
Allie walked around the building, flashlight in hand. It was dark and quiet and chilly enough that she had to rub her hands up and down her arms to warm herself. Maybe if she didn’t try so hard, something would happen. Because something needed to happen. Otherwise, this was going to be the most boring article in the history of Florida! magazine. She might as well hand Chris Dougal the job on a silver platter.
She made a thorough search of the building, but this time the ghost detector app was silent. It seemed ridiculous to stay awake when nothing was happening, so she formulated a plan. Get a couple hours of sleep then try again with the ghost detector. She made her way back to the main room and settled herself on the woolen blanket.
An hour later (she knew it was an hour because she kept checking her watch), Allie was still awake. The wooden floor beneath the blanket was hard and uninviting. Something scurried past her. Oh God. It was those cockroaches again.
She peeked over at Tom, asleep on the queen sized mattress. Why hadn’t she thought to bring an inflatable mattress? She knew for a fact Zeke and Mimi had one. Tom had invited her to share the bed, which of course she’d scoffed at, but apparently her lower back didn’t have as much pride as the rest of her. It was practically screaming at her to get off the floor. Plus, there were those roaches to think about. Allie had read an article once about a woman who had swallowed a roach in her sleep…
She was being ridiculous. She and Tom were adults. He was asleep and she was beyond tired. She laid down on the edge of the mattress, trying her hardest not to disturb him, but it was a blow up mattress, which meant the whole thing was flimsy at best. She turned on her side, pulling the blanket up around her chin and shut her eyes.
After what seemed like forever, but in reality was only twenty minutes according to her watch, Allie was still wide awake.
The whiskey had made her woozy. She was exhausted. The inflatable mattress was a lot more comfortable than the floor, so why wasn’t she asleep? She strained to listen to Tom’s breathing, but there was only silence. Did he snore? Apparently not.
Despite the chill in the air her skin broke out into a light sweat. There was one definite big con to sharing a bed with Tom Donalan. Lying inches away from him, it felt like every cell in her body had gone on full alert. No wonder she couldn’t sleep. Did he feel it, too?
“I don’t bite,” he said.
She froze.
Okay. There were at least four or five snarky retorts she could respond with, but that would only make the situation stickier. Best to pretend she was asleep.
“I’m glad you decided to be practical and share the bed, but you’re going to fall off the mattress,” he continued.
