women. He finally got all tangled up with too many fiancées and ended up with none.”
“You don’t seem terribly heartbroken.”
She flicked him with a teasing glance. “At the time, I was devastated—or thought I was. But proposals and engagements and breakups just seemed to keep happening to me over and over again until I got used to it. I got myself engaged a total of six times between the ages of twenty and thirty. Now, I know better.”
So that meant she wasn’t engaged to the man whose lap she’d sat on.
“What?” he said. “You mean if a guy ever proposes again, he gets an automatic No? Is that what you’d say if I proposed?”
Her laughter, warm and musical, seemed to wash over him like the touch of soft, stroking fingers. “I’d probably ask you if another trunk had fallen on your head.”
“No trunk ever fell on my head,” he reminded her, unable to resist stroking her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “But I seem to be going a little bit crazy anyway. At least where you’re concerned. I have a feeling that if I hang around here too long I just might find myself doing exactly that.”
Her eyes widened. “Exactly what?”
“Proposing to you.”
He couldn’t tell who his statement surprised more, her … or himself.
“Then I suggest you don’t hang around too long.” Giving him the cold shoulder, Lissa exited into the back office. He shrugged, wondering what had gotten into him.
When he got back to his room, all his clothes were back neatly on the right of the closet and every one of his dresser drawers was open. As he watched, they closed silently, one by one. She’s searching for that earring … A chill swept over his body.
“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” he said, but the words echoed hollowly in the room. Did he, or did he not, hear a hint of faint, faraway laughter? Or maybe heartbroken sobs?
Not. Absolutely, positively not.
Chapter Four
“No way. Forget it!” Lissa stood with her hands on her hips surveying the gathering of committee members in her father’s small trailer. “That’s Ginny’s job!”
“But he doesn’t even like me,” Ginny said.
“That’s crazy, Men always like you!”
“Phil didn’t.”
“I thought you divorced him, not he you.”
“Sure. But I divorced him because he didn’t like me. He wanted me to be something I wasn’t cut out to be—a corporate wife. Never marry a lawyer, Lissa.”
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of marrying anyone.”
“Girls, girls, knock it off.” Rosa thumped on the table with the bottom of her empty glass. “Nobody’s asking you to marry the man, Liss, just, well, like your dad said, sort of make up to him, be nice. Keep him busy, off balance, and out of his room so the guys can do things.”
“What things?” Lissa asked. “Aren’t mysteriously opening and closing drawers enough? And when Larry gets the CD player properly positioned in the attic—by the way, Larry, thank you for offering to do that. No way was I going up there again with the spiders. Anyway, when he gets them up and running again, Mr. Jackson will take one night of ghostly wails and be out of here.”
“I don’t think so.” Reggie shook his leonine head and folded his big, work-worn hands around his coffee mug. “I talked to him today and he doesn’t come across like a guy who scares easy. And he doesn’t believe in ghosts.”
“So what good is it going to do, doing stuff in his room?” Lissa asked in exasperation.
“One of these nights,” Reggie said, grinning, “his bed just might collapse. Once my ankle’s better, there’s all sorts of things I can do to earn my keep as handyman.”
“Not on your life!” Lissa’s father said vehemently. “You harm that bed, mister, and you’re in big trouble!” He really loved his grandparents’ old furniture and couldn’t understand why everyone else, Lissa included, didn’t see each piece as the valuable artifact he did.
“I was joking, Frank,”
“You don’t seem terribly heartbroken.”
She flicked him with a teasing glance. “At the time, I was devastated—or thought I was. But proposals and engagements and breakups just seemed to keep happening to me over and over again until I got used to it. I got myself engaged a total of six times between the ages of twenty and thirty. Now, I know better.”
So that meant she wasn’t engaged to the man whose lap she’d sat on.
“What?” he said. “You mean if a guy ever proposes again, he gets an automatic No? Is that what you’d say if I proposed?”
Her laughter, warm and musical, seemed to wash over him like the touch of soft, stroking fingers. “I’d probably ask you if another trunk had fallen on your head.”
“No trunk ever fell on my head,” he reminded her, unable to resist stroking her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “But I seem to be going a little bit crazy anyway. At least where you’re concerned. I have a feeling that if I hang around here too long I just might find myself doing exactly that.”
Her eyes widened. “Exactly what?”
“Proposing to you.”
He couldn’t tell who his statement surprised more, her … or himself.
“Then I suggest you don’t hang around too long.” Giving him the cold shoulder, Lissa exited into the back office. He shrugged, wondering what had gotten into him.
When he got back to his room, all his clothes were back neatly on the right of the closet and every one of his dresser drawers was open. As he watched, they closed silently, one by one. She’s searching for that earring … A chill swept over his body.
“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” he said, but the words echoed hollowly in the room. Did he, or did he not, hear a hint of faint, faraway laughter? Or maybe heartbroken sobs?
Not. Absolutely, positively not.
Chapter Four
“No way. Forget it!” Lissa stood with her hands on her hips surveying the gathering of committee members in her father’s small trailer. “That’s Ginny’s job!”
“But he doesn’t even like me,” Ginny said.
“That’s crazy, Men always like you!”
“Phil didn’t.”
“I thought you divorced him, not he you.”
“Sure. But I divorced him because he didn’t like me. He wanted me to be something I wasn’t cut out to be—a corporate wife. Never marry a lawyer, Lissa.”
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of marrying anyone.”
“Girls, girls, knock it off.” Rosa thumped on the table with the bottom of her empty glass. “Nobody’s asking you to marry the man, Liss, just, well, like your dad said, sort of make up to him, be nice. Keep him busy, off balance, and out of his room so the guys can do things.”
“What things?” Lissa asked. “Aren’t mysteriously opening and closing drawers enough? And when Larry gets the CD player properly positioned in the attic—by the way, Larry, thank you for offering to do that. No way was I going up there again with the spiders. Anyway, when he gets them up and running again, Mr. Jackson will take one night of ghostly wails and be out of here.”
“I don’t think so.” Reggie shook his leonine head and folded his big, work-worn hands around his coffee mug. “I talked to him today and he doesn’t come across like a guy who scares easy. And he doesn’t believe in ghosts.”
“So what good is it going to do, doing stuff in his room?” Lissa asked in exasperation.
“One of these nights,” Reggie said, grinning, “his bed just might collapse. Once my ankle’s better, there’s all sorts of things I can do to earn my keep as handyman.”
“Not on your life!” Lissa’s father said vehemently. “You harm that bed, mister, and you’re in big trouble!” He really loved his grandparents’ old furniture and couldn’t understand why everyone else, Lissa included, didn’t see each piece as the valuable artifact he did.
“I was joking, Frank,”
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