Ghost Seer by Robin D. Owens

that gray suit, that’s for sure,” he said.
    “Ohh.” Her appreciative glance went to his shoulders. He figured they were broad enough for her.
    A melody played and her eyes sharpened.
    “Your cell?” he asked.
    “My real estate agent.”
    His brows rose. “Spending the inheritance?”
    “My house is too small,” she replied stiffly. “I’ve already sold my late aunt’s house. Even as we speak, my brother is arranging for moving trucks to me, his place in Virginia, and a storage unit for the parents in White Plains, New York.”
    Professional interest prickled along Zach’s nerves. “They don’t have a problem with you inheriting a lot of money? Or did they get a big cut, too?” Just how wealthy was this woman? Her clothes and bag were modest, midlevel management.
    “I got all the money and the house, but my brother took money out of a trust some time ago and I didn’t. He and his family are comfortable and my parents live on trust fund money.”
    “Uh-huh.” Zach didn’t believe for an instant that her relatives wouldn’t resent Clare’s good luck. In his world, big money always caused problems between people.
    Her cell rang again with the same sprightly, tinkly music. “Go ahead and get it,” he said.
    She leaned down and pulled the phone right out of her bag, no fishing around. Efficient. Nice.
    “Hello, Arlene, this is Clare. Four listings already that match my requirements? Oh. Right now? I don’t know . . .”
    Clare’s gaze cut to Zach, and he stopped himself from smirking. She didn’t want to leave him and the conversation they were having to look at pretty houses. She’d rather stay. That boosted his confidence like nothing and nobody since the shooting. He leaned back in his chair, smiling, but waved that she should accept the appointment. He had no doubt they’d meet again.
    Clare pursed her lips, tilted her head, staring at him.
    “Go on,” he said. High-pitched, quick burbling continued to come from the telephone. No doubt the agent knew she had a big fish on the line and wanted to sell to Clare as soon as possible. Still, he’d back Clare and her obviously careful ways against a high-energy and persuasive real estate agent.
    A cool draft washed around his legs. The day remained sunny, with heat rising to sizzling. The restaurant must have turned the air-conditioning up.
    “All right, Arlene.” Clare turned her wrist to look at her watch. A person who still wore a watch so she could see the time faster than reaching for her cell or personal computer or tablet—which Zach also bet she carried.
    Yep, one damn intriguing woman.
    Under her tan skin, her cheeks pinkened as she flushed, her gaze darting to him. “Ah, Arlene, I don’t have a car with me. I took a cab downtown.”
    That was interesting. She didn’t strike him as the type who’d spend an extra penny on herself if there were other options, and it was impossible to get around the Denver metro area in a timely manner without a ride.
    A lot of commonalities between them, and the shadows in her eyes, and something just
different
combined into a hell of an attraction for him. Intelligent, sexy, vibrant. He didn’t know how loyal she might be. Trustworthy, though, he’d allow her that.
    “I’ll find a cab at one of the big hotels and meet you at the first house. Yes, I’ve memorized the address. I’ll leave shortly.”
    “You haven’t had lunch?” Zach asked. The more he looked at her, the more he thought he saw strain around her eyes, as if those shadows bedeviled her.
    She frowned at him, lifted the cell from her mouth. “I’m not very hungry.”
    Once again the odd chill breezed through. Wonky air-conditioning.
    And though he frowned, he understood when someone wanted to force food on you and you didn’t want to eat.
    “I’ll leave as soon as you hang up, Arlene,” Clare said, and the call ended.
    She slipped the cell back into her bag, rubbed at her temples. “I didn’t expect this to happen so