Deadline Page 18

She exhaled slowly so not to seem too disappointed. Disappointed, but thankful for his control.

  She battled feelings she'd never encountered before. How could the urge to cheat on Trevor come so easily to her around a man she just met? She had passion with Trevor, but not this yearning need for someone to touch her. It could be that Trevor wouldn't keep his hands off of her, but she didn't remember ever feeling this need. . .this hunger for raw physical contact.

  He had the small table elegantly set, complete with wine glasses. Oh goodness, if I have alcohol on a completely empty stomach, I'm gonna make a fool of myself. I'd better pass on the wine.

  He spread the food out on his small bar. As she fixed her plate, he'd already poured her a glass of wine.

  "I'm sorry, I meant to tell you, I don't really like red wine. I'm more of a sweet wine kind of girl."

  She thought that might save her the embarrassment of having to explain the real reason why she didn't want to drink. But he pulled a bottle of white wine from the fridge and mixed it with the dry red wine. Sangria, he called it. She stared at him, unsure what to say.

  "Try it, you'll like it. Trust me." His smile was warm and mesmerizing.

  She sipped the sweet, slightly citrusy liquid surprised by how good it tasted. He held his glass up for a toast. She reminded herself again that this first glass was on an empty stomach. She'd better take it slow.

  "To trespassing, to bumping into strangers, to having a beautiful woman sneak up on my bare behind, and still getting her to come over for dinner. To new acquaintances and the excitement that comes with them."

  "Here, here." She clinked her glass with his and, distracted by his attentiveness and the burst of flavor against her famished palate, she forgot to sip as she took a very large gulp. Her head felt a little fuzzy so she took a bite of food. Voracious hunger and this delectable food transformed her into a champion competitive eater. Cade happily watched her annihilate the dinner he'd prepared. She paused for a moment, wiped her mouth and took a sip of wine.

  She shrugged. "You told me to bring my appetite."

  He nodded in approval. "No, it's great! I love a woman who isn't afraid to eat. You're stroking my ego." He smiled appreciatively.

  "I'm just impressed you know how to cook and are brave enough to do it for someone else. Trevor only knows how to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

  "Really?" Cade was appalled. "He's never cooked for you? How long have you been with him?"

  Now that she thought about it, it was kind of sad. Trevor never had her over to his house, just the two of them. A few times, they ate at his parents' house, but mostly they went to restaurants, or he came to her place. She stared at her glass of wine as she gently rolled the stem between her fingers.

  "We've been together a little over two years." She spoke softly, still very upset about their earlier conversation. Caroline didn't know why, but she felt like Trevor was up to no-good and that it involved her. He was keeping her in the dark about something and she didn't like it. It must've been a little obvious.

  Cade reached down and gently took her left hand, tilting it, noticing her ring missing. She braced herself for a sarcastic comment. Instead, he pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed her ring finger. What a sweet gesture. Why is this guy not taken already? Though he made it no secret he was going to try to convince her she didn't need to marry Trevor, he didn't push or annoy her about it. He had completely won her over and she didn't know how to explain—or deny, her irrational feelings. But she needed to before she did something stupid.

  "So, tell me about your best friend."

  A smile involuntarily spread across her face. "Kristy's from Tennessee, and her dad is an auctioneer making a very good living. Because her family had plenty of money, it allowed her freedom of expression while growing up, so she was able to experiment with all kinds of fun things. As it turns out, she has a passion for fashion and a knack for the sewing machine. She's always assembling outfits for me to wear because I have zero fashion sense. If it were up to me I'd stay in my ratty old jeans, Razorback T-shirts, and bare feet all the time."

  Caroline ran her index finger around the smooth rim of her wine glass. "She actually made me this incredible emerald green dress for my birthday and gave it to me early so I could wear it the night Trevor proposed." Talking about Kristy was choking her up enough, and now Trevor had popped back into her mind. Anger, insecurity, sadness, and worry pulsed through her. She had to get her emotions in check before she really embarrassed herself. "Kristy's very talented, and I know someday she'll have her own clothing line."

  Caroline's eyes misted as she thought about Kristy moving so far away. "Unfortunately, she's moving to California once she graduates."

  Cade chuckled and shook his head. "Razorbacks. That'll only get you in trouble around here if you represent them the day after Thanksgiving when they play LSU." He winked and took a drink before shrugging his beefy shoulders. "Alabama or Florida, on the other hand. . .well, you don't even wanna go there."

  He chewed another bite while smiling at his inside joke. She knew about the tension between LSU and Florida, but hadn't followed their beef with Alabama. She didn't care exactly what was behind that particular football rivalry, Caroline enjoyed talking about the sport with someone again. Trevor hated football.

  "So your bff's going to Cali, where do you plan to live once you graduate?"

  The question surprised her. She hadn't thought much about it. She'd always assumed she'd move back to Arkansas with her mom, but doubted Trevor would be down with that. "Who knows? Trevor has a great job in the city, so there's a big possibility I'll have to stay in Chicago."

  He let out a big laugh and then tried to recover with a cough. She glared while trying to figure out what he found so funny. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

  "What?"

  "Have to, huh? You don't like it up there?"

  To distract him and change the subject, Caroline tried to sound innocent.

  "I told you, I'm a southern girl. How old are you, Cade?"

  "I'm twenty-seven, but my birthday is in a few months." He paused and tilted his head. "It's impolite to ask a lady her age, so I'm going to attempt something very risky. I'll make a bet that I can guess your age."

  She grinned. Brave soul. "Well, aren't you Mr. Confident." She'd always been told she looked older than her age. Not always a compliment, but useful in harmless bets such as this. "Okay, you're on. The stakes?"

  He took a drink of his wine and slowly wiped his mouth before he spoke. "You know you like it. Confidence is sexy, right?"

  "Confidence, yes. Arrogance. . .not so much."

  "Understood. So, the stakes. If I guess right, you let me steal a kiss."

  Her heart literally skipped a couple of beats and she held her breath. This could be bad. Very bad. She slowly exhaled and took a sip of wine. "And if you guess wrong?"

  "Then, hmmm. I will sing you a song."

  She giggled, thrilled with the possibility of hearing him sing again, especially just for her. "You'll sing me a song?"

  "Yep. Right here, right now. Those are the stakes. Take 'em or leave 'em."

  "What song?"

  "I'll make one up on the spot."

  "Okay. I could go for some serenading tonight. You're on."

  "I'm gonna guess that you are twenty-two—" She opened her mouth to say something but he interrupted. "No, wait. You mentioned a birthday. When is that, exactly?"

  Caroline cleared her throat. "May thirteenth."

  "Okay, I say you are twenty-three years old. That is my final answer."

  She took another sip of wine. She never did have a good poker face. Her heart pounded and the room started to spin. Caroline wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or anticipation of the kiss he was about to steal. Technically it wasn't stealing if she gave it voluntarily. He did win it, after all.

  What is wrong with me? He stared at her, waiting for an answer. She tried to decide exactly how she would handle a
kiss from him right now; after all, her feelings were somewhat vulnerable at the moment. Trevor's weird behavior had her all jacked up.

  "Am I right?"

  She licked her lips and smiled. "Indeed you are. I turned twenty-three last month."

  He jumped up in triumph then he turned toward Caroline with molten, heavy-lidded eyes. His voice smooth as cream. "When can I collect my prize?"

  Oh, what the heck. Live a little. She chose to give Trevor a taste of his own medicine and swallowed hard before taking another gulp of wine. "Well, I suppose there's no time like the present."

  He tilted his head to one side as if he was thinking, squinted, and took a step closer. Preparing to be swept off her feet, she stood. However, she did it too quickly and stumbled. He gripped her arms to steady her, the heat from his palms searing her skin. The exaggerated rise and fall of his chest with each breath proved he was as nervous as she. That steadied her more than his grip. The soft, romantic jazz music created a perfect setting and a flush of heated anticipation swept through her body. She wanted this more than she cared to admit.

  Cade curled his arm around her waist to pull her closer to him. He brushed the hair from her face and looked her over from her head down to her hips. She leaned back, a little tempted to expose her vulnerable neck for him to kiss, but she didn't. Fairly certain she had stopped breathing, Caroline wanted his mouth on hers. Now.

  Cade leaned forward and brushed his lips across her forehead, down the side of her face, and across her cheek bones, before he pulled just out of reach in front of her lips. He explored her face with his mouth and it drove her wild.

  Caroline blamed it on the alcohol combined with her staggered emotions, but she wanted him more than anything she ever remembered. She just knew she would spontaneously combust if he didn't kiss her already. Her eyes were closed, her lips reflexively parted in the suspense, and her breath caught in her throat. They swayed slightly to the music. . .slow dancing.

  Unable to wait any longer, she instinctively leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. He growled in utter satisfaction and gently kissed her back, tightening his embrace. Her soft, responsive moan set things into motion. A slight whimper escaped him as he cradled her face with both hands, handling her like fine crystal.

  Then, his hands moved firmly around her back and shoulders, pulling her body even closer to him, deepening the intoxicating kiss. His passion and intensity, the way he touched her, held her, had her body thrumming with pleasure. He held her tightly, drinking her in as if she was the oasis for his desert thirst, the oxygen for his asphyxiation. Cade kissed her like a soldier back from a two-year deployment, thankful for the sense of touch and taste. The need—desperate, raw, consuming, enveloped her completely. Caroline lost herself in his atmosphere and didn't want to come back to Earth.

  He slowed and finally stopped the fiery kiss. Cade reluctantly stepped back, breathing heavily. He sucked in the electrified air. His still-breathless voice a whisper. "Wow."

  Wow was right. Caroline couldn't believe how much she already missed the feel of his lips on her. What are you doing? Don't stop. Kiss me again. The static charge surrounding them caused the hair on her arms to stand on end. The prickles consuming her scalp intensified with each breath she took, and she desperately wanted more. The passion she'd shared with Trevor, the man she regarded as a master of foreplay, never affected her quite this powerfully. Her breathless voice betrayed her false sense of composure.

  "Is everything okay?"

  He looked up, somewhat bewildered. "Yes, I'm just. . .shocked. That's all. Did you feel that?"

  If he only knew how much she wanted to feel that again. "Yes. I certainly did." Caroline stared at her intertwined fingers and tried not to look too disappointed.

  "I've kissed plenty of girls, but I've never felt like that with anyone."

  She smiled. "Yeah, it was amazing." She had to change the subject, quickly before she jumped his bones. Her abstinence promise to God was quickly fading as she imagined the incredibly naughty things she wanted to do with this steamy package of rippling muscles and pheromones. Her mind raced to think of something else to talk about before she ruined everything.

  The only thing she came up with was the impossible, yet undeniable presence of something in her room. She still had trouble accepting the ghost theory, but right now she desperately needed something to distract her from that panty-busting kiss. "Do you believe in ghosts?" She cringed at the awkwardness in her voice.

  He coughed out a laugh. "What? Ghosts?" He cleared his throat to compose himself. "Um, yes, in fact, I do believe in ghosts. Why do you ask?" His knowing expression proved he knew she'd deliberately changed the subject, but he didn't press the issue.

  With a disbelieving smile, she shook her head. "Well, I don't believe in ghosts, but weird things have been happening lately. Unexplainable things." Now she regretted bringing it up at all. This was not something she wanted to discuss with him. With anyone. "I was just curious, really, it's no big deal. Never mind, it's stupid."

  "Nothing that comes from your mouth is stupid." Serious now, he seemed genuinely interested. "What kind of weird, unexplainable things?"

  She was such an idiot. She should have just run out his door as quickly as she had the first time she'd been here and not looked back, but now she had to tell him something to satisfy his curiosity. "Do you know anything about the first Fontenot's that lived in that house?"

  "Not much, why? Did something happen?"

  "You see, you're not going to believe me when I tell you any of this so I should just. . .stop talking. I told you, it's stupid." She didn't believe it much herself. No way could she convince anyone else. He stood right in front of her and gently lifted her chin so she looked him in the face.

  "Sweet Caroline, I told you. Nothing that comes from you could ever be stupid. Try me." He smiled irresistibly, breaking down her walls.

  "Several months ago I had a crazy, scary dream. It was so real. When I woke I wasn't sure if I had dreamed it or if it had really happened and was like a distant memory. Apart from the first one, the other dreams were me watching from a fly on-the-wall perspective. Confusing at first, I had a few more of those types of dreams, and they seemed to almost pick up where they left off. Only, each dream was a different part of the story. . .like a soap opera."

  He nodded.

  "To sum up my best guess, the dream takes me back to the 1800s and the same woman is always in them. I haven't seen her picture yet, but I'm guessing the woman is Rachel Fontenot, my G3 Grandma." He smiled at her use of his acronym.

  "Even crazier, when I got here and chose my room, the exact same room from my dream complete with identical furniture and bedding, I felt connected to that room. Like I was meant to be there." Caroline avoided eye contact, afraid he might be laughing at her. "I even found my initials scratched into the window pane. That's what sparked my trip to the library the day I met you." She peeked up at him from below her lashes and appreciated his focused attention. She continued quietly without a sound from her captive audience. Trevor would've already laughed her out of town by now.

  "There was one specific dream of her having an argument with someone named Jackson. I think she was married to him. They argued in the woods, and, from what I could hear, she told Jackson that she'd been raped by someone. At first he didn't believe her, but she finally convinced him and mentioned a business betrayal. Once he realized she was being honest, he was ready to kill whoever it was."

  "You see, allegedly, Rachel Fontenot jumped out of the window in her room and busted her head on a garden statue below, killing her instantly." Caroline subconsciously rubbed the center of her forehead. "Every time I have one of these dreams, my forehead throbs right in between my eyes. Supposedly where she hit her head on the statue." She picked up her wine glass and swirled the liquid without drinking it. "My first dream was not from a spectator's perspective. I was her in the dream and it was while she was being raped."

  Caroline shif
ted uncomfortably. "It terrified me, and still gets to me sometimes. His voice. . ." She set her glass back down and rubbed her face in frustration. "You see, everything is way too coincidental for me to just blow it off like I want to. I don't believe in ghosts, I just don't. But all the strange things. . ."

  Cade's eyebrows shot up with interest. "Go on."

  "Well, the other day when I was at a pivotal point in one of those dreams, something slammed into my window really hard. I don't know what it was, but it hit hard enough to wake me up."

  "It was a bird."

  "What? A bird? What kind of bird flies into a window in the middle of the night?"

  He shrugged. "The one I found in the garden was a Prairie Warbler. Didn't think much of it since they're common in this area. Did that bird have any significance in your dreams?"

  She couldn't remember a bird significance and filed it away with the other stuff that didn't make sense. Caroline shook her head as she took a sip of wine to help prepare for the next part. "Earlier today, I stood by the window admiring the duck pond and heard a chair scraping across the floor right behind me. When I turned around, the chair from the dressing table was all the way back by the bed. I hadn't touched it."

  "Has anything else strange or unusual happened to you in your room? Anything missing or moved, lights on or off that you didn't touch?"

  "Yes," she sighed and nervously smoothed her hair. "When I first arrived here, I saw someone watching me from a third story window—ironically the room I wound up choosing, as I walked to the porch, but I couldn't see clearly because of the rain. Later, I learned no one lived on that side of the house, and rarely went up there except to clean or change the linens. My dad had been in his office and the only other two people in the house at the time were in the kitchen." She paced now, realizing her list of craziness was growing.

  "After I chose my room, I admired a well-preserved antique perfume bottle and instantly smelled a fragrance as if someone stood behind me. When I walked away, the smell was gone." Caroline stopped pacing and looked up at Cade.

  "You know, there was one other strange thing. I had put my engagement ring on my nightstand the other night before I went to bed and I made a point to put it next to my cell phone. That was the night the poor bird hit my window. Anyway, I had grabbed my phone to check the time when I was jarred awake but didn't touch the ring. The next morning it was gone. I looked all over the floor around the nightstand, under the bed, everywhere. I couldn't find it. Then, like magic, the next day when I walked back into my room it was there on my nightstand again, exactly where I had originally put it."

  A smile stretched across Cade's face. "If this is a ghost and it's Rachel Fontenot, I'm sure she doesn't want you to marry a Yankee, either."

  Caroline smacked his arm, "Oh, shut up about the whole Yankee thing. This has nothing to do with Trevor."

  He laughed at his clever joke. "Well, my dear, it sounds to me like you are living in a haunted room, quite possibly a haunted house. I don't think a ghost is only bound to the room in which it died. Has anything strange happened anywhere else in the house?"

  Caroline recalled aloud the almost-accident she had just before her arrival when whoever she nearly hit disappeared into thin air, then the charge in the air when she had her breakthrough with Eddie in the dining room. As she struggled to remember other strange happenings, her mouth dropped open with the memory of the kitchen fire. "Cade. . .there was an accident in the kitchen today. Delphine heated some oil to fry fish and Delia said the pan burst into flames like an explosion. She said she'd never seen anything like it. Delphine had to go to the emergency room with second degree burns on her arm."

  "Oh no. Did it do any damage to the kitchen?"

  "The backsplash and some of the cabinets, I think. I didn't see it. All I know is what Delia told us."

  "Wow, I guess it's a good thing she only had to worry about second degree burns and not worse."

  Caroline cringed. "You really think it's a ghost doing all this nonsense, or could it just be coincidences? Maybe the dreams are just a product of my overactive imagination?"

  "Wait, when did you say you had your first dream?"

  "Several months ago, why?"

  "You were still in Chicago?"

  "Yes, why? Where are you going with this?"

  "Well, I'm trying to figure out if this ghost is haunting the house. . .or you." Caroline's stomach churned. "Did anything else strange happen to you in Chicago, I mean besides the dreams?"

  She told him about the incident with her sweatshirt magically covering her during an afternoon nap, the picture frame falling over by itself, and the freaky episode with her cat growling at shadows. He listened enthusiastically.

  "You know, animals see things we don't. Your cat could've been growling at your ghost." He was like a kid sitting around a camp fire telling ghost stories. Caroline, on the other hand, was quite freaked out.

  "Do you really think Rachel Fontenot is haunting me? It just sounds so stupid when I say it out loud. Why would she come after me? I never had anything to do with her family, apart from my DNA. I'm more of an outsider to the Fontenot's than you are."

  "I don't know, it could be anything. The only way I know of to see if it's a ghost, without calling The Spirit Spies, is to try to contact it yourself."

  "The Spirit Spies?"

  He grinned. "Yeah, you know, S.P.I.S., the Southern Paranormal Investigative Services. The ghost hunting team from that television show. They call themselves The Spirit Spies because of the initials. It's pretty cool."

  She rolled her eyes. "I'm afraid they would be wasting their time and we'd look like complete idiots. I'm sure it's nothing. Probably hallucinations from the stress of this trip. I'll just wait and see if the weird things stop." She wanted to convince herself as much as him.

  "You should try to do a test or something. Try doing the flashlight test where you set up a flashlight across the room that's easy to turn on and off, and ask the ghost to turn it on herself if she's really in there with you."

  "Would a ghost from the 1800s even know how to work a flashlight? Maybe you could come to my room sometime and do the test for me?" Cade liked that idea a lot, though Caroline wondered, and secretly hoped, his excitement reflected more toward coming to her room rather than contacting a ghost.

  "Let's do it tonight." His face gleamed with enthusiasm.

  She shrugged. "Okay, fine. Don't get your hopes up too much, though. I think it's just a scary ghost story."

  Cade leaned in and kissed her cheek. "We shall see, sweet Caroline. We shall see. It seems to me that Rachel Fontenot is trying to tell you something through your dreams and you're not quite getting it, so now she's moving your things to show you. I'd bet money she would be willing to turn on a simple flashlight to prove to you it's not just some scary ghost story."

  "Alright then, let's do this."

  The rain had stopped but darkness cloaked the woods. The trail was soft underfoot on the walk back to the house. Earthy, wet smells hung as heavy in the air as the humidity. Fog rolled through the trees, hugging the ground. Thankful Cade was with her, Caroline looped her arm through his staying very close by his side. He closed the gap by wrapping his arm around her waist instead, then leaned down and kissed the top of her head to reassure her.

  They silently traveled across land that had been in her family for over a century, and Caroline imagined her ancestors walking the same path, wishing she could speak with them and get some answers. She wondered if distant members of her family fought and died in any of the wars that might have taken place in this territory. If ghosts were indeed real, was Rachel the only one sticking around?

  For the first time since she'd been down in Golden Meadow, Louisiana, she was aware of her historical surroundings.

  Fifteen