In the Midnight Hour (32 page)

“Yeah,” Ronnie said, taking another bite. Her taste buds chanted in satisfaction almost as loud as her grumbling hormones.

Another bite and she closed her eyes at the rush of sweetness, followed by a hazy warmth that uncurled in her stomach and seeped outward. It wasn’t as hot as the firestorm that had swept through her last night courtesy of Val, but at least she’d gone five minutes without wondering what he was doing.

Was he waiting for her?

Thinking about her?

She frowned and took another bite. A big bite.

Danny glanced behind him again, then turned back to his watch.

Ronnie pointed her fork at him. “Why don’t you just go over there and tell her you’re ready to go?”

“I don’t want to bother her.” He toyed with a napkin. “She’s busy talking to her friends.”

“She’s busy following them out the door,” Delta said, motioning to the front of the restaurant.

“What?” Danny’s head whipped around in time to see Wanda wave at him and mouth a pink, pouty, “Sorry” before she disappeared. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. He shook his head and reached for Delta’s fork.

The woman raised her eyebrows. “I thought you weren’t hungry.”

“I’m not.” He shoveled in a forkful. “I’m miserable.”

“Welcome to the club.” Delta signaled the waitress and ordered another round of cake.

“Love sucks,” Danny said, and all three raised their forks in a heartfelt salute.

Love did suck, not that Ronnie had to worry about that. She wasn’t in love. She was in lust.

Lust
, you got that?

No love. Not for this girl. No way, no how, forget it.

It was the cake making her think crazy thoughts like how she was actually anxious to see Val.

That’s what she told herself as she stumbled home, her head buzzing, her taste buds still tingling from the sugar overload.

Outside her apartment, she fumbled with her key, a giggle passing her lips as her heart revved in anticipation.

Anticipation? More like rum cake. Three slices. Or was that four?

“Darned key,” she mumbled, surprised at how thick her lips suddenly felt. And, geez, the floor had started to shake.

She jammed the metal into the lock. If only it would slide home. Then she could sit down, the floor wouldn’t tremble so much, and maybe she could blink away this blasted fog glazing her eyes—

“Yikes,” she shrieked as the door suddenly jerked open and she pitched straight into Val’s embrace.

Strong arms closed around her. The scent of raw male and leather and fresh, ripe water snuck into her nostrils and infiltrated her brain before she could catch her breath, much less hold it. Heat scorched her fingertips where she splayed her hands against the hard wall of his chest.

Her head snapped up, her gaze collided with deep blue eyes.

“I …” The words tangled in her throat.

“
You’re all right
.” Relief filled his voice. “
I was terribly worried
.”

“You were?” The very idea sent a spurt of joy through her. Her hands started creeping up, desperate to curl around behind his neck—

“The cake,” she muttered, jerking away before she lost her sanity completely. Because no way could a man feel so warm, so right …

His relief seemed to give way to anger as he stared at her. “
Where the hell have you been?
”

Even the sight of his wrinkled forehead and his narrowed eyes did funny things to her insides. Made her feel jumpy and nervous and …
excited
. She shook her head frantically. “This isn’t happening to me.” Her words slurred together and his expression darkened.

“
You’ve been drinking
.”

“Hah! That shows what you know. I’ve been eating.”

A muscle ticked frantically in his jaw; his lips drew into a tight line. “
I was here worried sick, while you were out getting drunk. Drunk
,” he spat the word at her. “You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not,” she protested, despite the sudden churn of her stomach. “Not that it’s any of your business. You’re just cake.”

“
What?
”

“Cake.” She pounded a finger into his chest. “That’s what’s making me feel this way because no way am I falling for you.” Was that her voice? Yes, it was, but it wasn’t the voice of reason. It was the voice of a frustrated, half-drunk—her stomach vaulted again—make that very drunk woman who’d just consumed thousands of calories that were now making their way to her hips. Her stomach. Her butt … “Oh, God.” Tears rushed to her already blurry eyes.

Valentine Tremaine had a surefire method for dealing with a crying woman. After all, he’d had years of practice at sliding his arms around a woman, soothing her, listening to her. Women loved men who kept their cool, stayed in control, and listened.

“
I was worried!
” he roared. “
Do you not have one responsible bone in your body?
” Before she could answer, he stalked her, backing her up until her back flattened against the wall. “Hours,” he growled.”
I’ve been waiting up for hours. I thought someone had slit your pretty little throat, or run you over with some bloody automobile. I thought you were dead!
”

“Good news.” She sniffled and gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m not.”

“
Not yet
.” He smiled, a dangerous, wicked smile meant to wipe the expression from her face. “
I get the pleasure of seeing to that myself
.”

Her smile faltered. “I …”

“
Yes?
”

“I …” She wet her trembling lips. “I—I think the rum cake is about to beat you to it.” Then she stumbled past him in her haste to reach the bathroom. A few steps shy, she swayed to the side, her knees giving way.

Val caught her before she hit the ground and though he wanted nothing more than to throttle the life out of her, the pained expression on her face, the desperate way she clung to his neck, effectively doused his temper. For now.

Later, he told himself. Later he would kill her.

“Hurry,” Ronnie managed to gasp before her stomach jumped and she clamped her lips shut against a wave of sickness.

The next thing she knew, she felt the cold tile of the floor beneath her legs. The cool rim met her fingertips.

It was a long while later, at least half a rum cake, before her stomach calmed down enough for her to wash her face and rinse out her mouth. Ronnie was this close to curling up on the floor rather than trying to get her trembling legs to cooperate, when Val picked her up and carried her to the bed.

He reached to help her out of her soiled T-shirt, but she slapped his hands away. He looked ready to argue, but then his gaze hooked on her lips, then her breasts, and he not only pushed her shirt back down, but yanked the cover up to add to her defenses.

Or his own.

“
Go to sleep
, Rouquin.” He killed the light. Leather creaked as he settled into the recliner, always so intent on keeping his distance.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her eyes closed as she snuggled down into the covers and prayed for her stomach to keep its cool. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“
Just go to sleep
,” he growled as if angry that she’d reminded him. But the fingertips that trailed over her cheek were anything but angry.

Fingertips? Yes, fingertips … He touched her softly, gently, and it felt so … right.

Her eyes snapped open, but she saw only the darkness hovering above her.

Imagination, she decided. That and all the rum-soaked cake she’d eaten. She turned onto her side and buried her fuzzy head in the pillows. Because no way, no how could she have done something so stupid, so irrational as to fall in love with a ghost. To fall in love, period.

She’d fallen in love.

Ronnie fought the truth throughout the next week by keeping Delta company after work each night and indulging her taste buds at Jake’s. Danny joined them and the three drowned their troubles in virgin brownies and alcohol-free fudge cake.

Out of sight, out of mind, she kept telling herself. If she avoided Val long enough, she wouldn’t be so enamored of him.

Right?

Wrong. The distance only served to wind her tighter and tighter. Frustration, she told herself. Deprived hormones. She needed a man,
man
being the operative word. If she weren’t so sexually deprived, she wouldn’t be yearning for Val. So, acting on this logic, she set her sights on finding herself a prime, grade-A male to indulge her hormones.

The past few weeks of love lessons had taught her well—she had two hot date prospects by the time Friday rolled around. But no matter how good-looking, how nice, how
real
both men were, neither could hold a candle to Val.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t having the same thoughts about her. He rarely spared her a glance, as if he’d come to a few conclusions of his own about their relationship. Namely, that there was no relationship, and he intended to keep it that way.

Fine by her. She didn’t want him distracting her, interfering in her life, turning her normal routine upside down. No, she certainly didn’t want stubborn, egotistical Valentine Tremaine.

But need him … yes, she definitely needed him. Distracting her, interfering in her life, turning her normal routine upside down and inside out. She admitted as much to herself Tuesday night, a full week since she and Val had had their bathroom encounter, as she sat at Jake’s and passed on chocolate Fudge Extravaganza in favor of chicken salad and an apple. She’d had her fill of caffeine and chocolate—proving beyond a doubt she’d gone off the deep end and traded her sanity for the forbidden
L
word.

Love
.

She still couldn’t believe it. She’d spent years avoiding love, intent on building something solid for herself. A successful career based on hard work because, in the end, just as she’d told Jenny, love wasn’t enough.

It hadn’t been enough to make her parents support their only daughter when she’d gone against their wishes and followed her own dreams.

And it certainly wasn’t enough to change the inevitable. Val was leaving, headed for the Afterlife as soon as Harvey came through with some news on Emma. It was only a matter of time.

There would be no marriage and babies in their future. No big wedding, no nice house in the suburbs, no Lamaze classes or Little League or junior ballet lessons. No traditional family.

The funny thing was, Veronica Parrish had never wanted any of those things. Until now. Until Val.

Talk about
really
rotten luck.

The thought plagued her as she headed home around two in the morning. Val was in his usual spot in the recliner, his gaze fixed on the TV. She said hello, then headed straight to her computer and spent the next hour trying to work on her spreadsheets for her tax class. Trying, but not succeeding. Not with Val sitting so close, her feelings so ripe and new and totally inappropriate.

He was a ghost, for heaven’s sake. They had no future. She shouldn’t want a future. She didn’t. She wanted her degree. Her career.

Forget about him
, she told herself Wednesday morning as she sat in Guidry’s class, after a sleepless night worrying and wondering and watching Val watch TV. She jotted down the notes Guidry gave about the female reproductive system, and forced herself to face reality. The future looked dismal, the relationship was hopeless … Duh, what relationship, Einstein?

Just
forget
him.

She fixed her gaze on the drawing on the chalkboard.

Ovaries.

Which reminded her of babies.

Which reminded her of Val.

So much for forgetting.

The only thing left was to acknowledge what she felt and deal with it.

She loved Val. While he might not return her feelings he
was
attracted to her. She saw proof when she caught him staring at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. A simmering heat filled his gaze, a combination of longing and lust and love.…

If only.

But with the way her luck was playing out, she wasn’t placing any bets that he returned her feelings. Still, he did feel
something
for her, and that gave her the courage she needed to take the initiative. She was a few steps shy of the Ultimate Fifty and the time had come for her to put all she’d learned to the test. Just to be sure, Ronnie spent Wednesday afternoon reviewing her notes and formulating a strategy. If Val thought she’d been bent on seduction before, he had a big surprise coming. That had been the inexperienced, I-barely-have-time-to-breathe-much-less-fall-in-love Ronnie. Now she was Madame Ronnie—ready and armed with knowledge and sex appeal—and a woman in love, and she was determined to make the most of the time she had left with Valentine Tremaine.

Starting tonight.

Chapter Seventeen

Despite what Val had said about dressing for success—namely, that it was unnecessary when a woman had it going on from the inside out—Ronnie stopped off at a local lingerie shop on her way between school and receptionist duty at Landry & Landry. While she didn’t have any firsthand experience, she seriously doubted there was a man alive who could resist a woman clad in a black lace teddy, thigh-high black stockings, and a garter belt that read
Danger! Curves Ahead
. At least, that’s what Paulette of Paulette’s Pleasures guaranteed her as she plopped down her hard-earned babysitting money—putting up with the Hades twins for the past few years had finally paid off.