Shiver and Spice Read online

  “What essay?”

  “I’m asking them to write about their family lineage,” she said. “Their Acadian ancestry in particular, if that’s their history.”

  “In case you’re wondering, I’m betting none of your students know anything about our ancestors living in this place during the Civil War.”

  “That’s not the reason I—” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right, our current dilemma did make me wish we had better records of our family history, and I decided to help them learn their own histories too.” She shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Poor kids.” He dropped into a chair at the table. “And do you need the entire pot of coffee?”

  She huffed out a breath, but grabbed a ceramic mug from the dish rack and poured one cup of coffee from her thermos. “Because you’re helping me, I’ll sacrifice a cup. And because you’ve been a literal pain in the ass lately.” She hesitated, then added, “Listen, I know it was tough when she crossed, but brooding isn’t going to help. Finding out whether this house had anybody in it during the Civil War, however, just might.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. How exactly is that helping me, again?”

  “We both know the Vicknairs wouldn’t have left this place empty. And you know that you can figure out who was here. I haven’t seen a puzzle yet that you couldn’t solve.”

  He nodded. “Right, but what has that got to do with helping me with my current situation?”

  “You know, for someone so smart, sometimes it takes you a while to catch on.” She took a sip from the thermos, then put the lid back on. “I’m keeping you busy, and when you’re busy, you don’t think about it.”

  “About her, you mean,” he corrected. “I don’t think about her. And you’re wrong. I still think about her.” He took a deep breath, exhaled.

  “But?”

  Dax shook his head. “Hell, you’re right, to a point. Working on this house stuff is keeping my mind off of my situation, somewhat.” He looked up at Nan, leaning against the counter with her thermos now tucked under one arm. “But my mind’s never completely off of it, Celeste.”

  She frowned. “You mean Nanette.”

  “Right.”

  “At least you called me somebody that I know you like.” She laughed, but Dax didn’t. How was he supposed to live the rest of his life without seeing Celeste again? And hell, he never even told her how he felt.

  “Dax?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I really do appreciate you helping me with this.”

  “I know you do, and I appreciate your reason for trying to keep me busy. But I still think this shouldn’t be a two-person show. This is their heritage too, you know.” Dax knew he and Nanette were the two best suited for finding the information they needed; he simply felt like complaining about the other cousins. It was a much-needed break from brooding.

  “Monique and Ryan are getting set up in their new house, and Ryan’s starting his new roofing job, so they’re busy. Tristan is working at the firehouse. Between her college classes and trying to raise money for the Seven Sisters Shelter, Jenee doesn’t have time to help. And…”

  “And?”

  “And they aren’t really your problem. You’ve got to get over it—get over her—on your own. Get your mind on something else. Sure, working on finding our house’s history will help, but why don’t you go out, too. Before this summer, you were out with someone different all the time. You haven’t even been on a date since she left, have you?”

  “Your point?”

  “Half the women in the parish would jump at the chance to go out with you, and you’re sitting around in an eternal stag mode, pining over a woman you can never have. I think it’s about time you got out of that self-induced funk.”

  “I sure hope you’re kinder to your students.” He took a big sip of coffee and enjoyed the strong taste of chicory on his tongue.

  “Nope, I pretty much lay it all on the line.” She smiled, and Dax couldn’t help but reciprocate. Nanette had one of those killer grins that just made him feel better, even if he really wasn’t in the mood to feel all that much better now.

  He took another sip of coffee and could already feel the strong surge of caffeine giving him a jolt.

  “You know, you could go out tonight, and then search for more information later,” she said. “There are a couple of teachers at the high school who have asked if you’re still avail—”

  Dax held up a hand. He didn’t want to be fixed up, especially not with Nanette’s coworkers. It’d be way too easy for her to get the sordid details, and he wasn’t about to be high-school teacher lounge fodder. More than that, he could have a date every night of the week, with a different female every night, and could damn well get lucky each and every time…and it wouldn’t help. That was another reason for his current state of frustration. He needed a good all-night bout of hot and heated, wild and wicked, no-holds-barred sex, but he didn’t want it with anyone except Celeste. And he’d never even touched her.

  But he’d sure dreamed about touching her, and doing a lot of other things to her, too. How was he supposed to move on to breathing females, when he had it so bad for a ghost? And a crossed-over one at that?

  “Just so you know,” he said, “I’ve got a spirit coming, so I probably don’t need to go out tonight, and I’m not sure how much time I’ll have to search for CivilWarVicknairs.”

  There, maybe that’d get Nanette off his back about dating, or lack thereof.

  As he suspected, word of a ghost coming got her attention. She placed her thermos on the counter. “You’ve got a spirit on the way? Boy or girl?”

  Even though they’d never officially decided to specialize in certain spirits, each Vicknair cousin always seemed to get the same type of ghostly visitors. Dax, for example, typically helped children to cross over. Now was no exception. The soft giggles he’d heard all day confirmed that a little girl was on her way. “Girl.”

  “I haven’t had an assignment in three months,” Nan said, her disappointment evident.

  “Maybe Grandma Adeline is giving you a break until the school year is further along. The beginning is always the most difficult for you, isn’t it? When you’re starting to learn the new students and all?” he said. Nanette tended to worry more than the other cousins when she went too long without being asked to help a ghost cross over. Dax suspected that she actually judged her self-worth by the number of ghosts she helped to cross. Oddly enough, she was happier when she got a visit from a ghost in trouble. It wasn’t that she liked knowing the ghost was having a hard time; it was simply that she liked helping. That was just the way she was, and was probably the reason she’d gone into teaching in the first place.

  “Maybe,” she said, still frowning.

  “Anyway, I’ve got a little girl coming, so I’ll search the Net for more information until she gets here, but once she does, I’ll need to spend my time with her.”

  “Of course.” Nanette picked her thermos back up, glancing at the clock. “Ghosts always come first, and maybe I’ll get another one soon.”

  Dax nodded, knowing that Nanette would be thrilled to cut parent–teacher conferences short in order to help a spirit. But if she hadn’t heard thunder today, her sign that spirits were on the way, it probably wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

  He held up his mug as she started to pass, and she topped off his coffee. Then the giggling got louder, and he closed his eyes to hear the little girl.

  “Your ghost?” Nanette asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “You should go see if you have a letter yet,” she said, referring to the lavender-tinted notes their grandmother sent from the other side to inform them of their medium assignments. The envelopes were always left in the same place, on the silver tea service in the sitting room, and would tell Dax the identity, and the requirement for crossing, of the child whose giggle had overpowered his thoughts.

  “Go on,” Nanette instructed. “Don’t worry about searching for inform
ation now. If you get more time later, then you can try to find something.”

  The laughter got louder, and he stood. “I think you’re right.” Finishing off his cup of coffee, he placed his mug in the sink. “I may already have a letter.”

  Nanette crossed the kitchen and hugged him, and his face was suddenly smothered in her thick black hair. “Tell me all about her when I get back,” she said, then turned and exited through the back door.

  Dax watched her climb into her old red Camaro, and smiled. The Vicknairs may not have a lot of money to spare, with every dime going into keeping the house from falling in, but even if they didn’t drive the newest cars around, they sure enough drove the coolest. Or in Nan’s case, the fastest.

  He watched her head out, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake, then examined the sky. It was growing darker as late afternoon turned to evening, and he hoped that his ghost would show soon. He’d always had a soft spot for kids, whether they were breathing or not.

  Dax exited the kitchen, then made his way up the stairs to the rose-tinted sitting room. The tea service was void of an envelope, but he’d barely crossed the room when a pale purple letter materialized in its center.

  “Perfect timing,” he said, stepping forward to verify the fact that the name on the outside, written in his grandmother’s swirling script, was his.

  Dax.

  Adeline Vicknair’s favorite scent, magnolia, wafted from the stationery. Sitting down on the red velvet settee, Dax picked up the envelope, and the giggles in his head immediately ceased. He opened it and withdrew the usual three sheets of paper composing a medium’s assignment. The top one, on pale purple stationery with a scalloped border, was his grandmother’s letter.

  Dax read the information at the top of the page.

  Name of Deceased—Priscilla “Prissy” Fontenot.

  Reason for Death—Car accident.

  The bottom of the page identified what the young spirit had to do to cross over.

  Requirement for Passage—Making sure her father is

  okay and telling her parents goodbye.

  Dax nodded at the familiar requirement. Often, particularly in the case of an accident, a ghost would want to let the person who felt responsible for their death know that they weren’t hurting on the other side, that they were, in fact, in a better place and that they would see each other again. What’s more, a ghost could view those they were close to on this side from the other realm. That fact always seemed to ease the minds of the loved ones who remained here.

  Dax frowned. Ghosts could see individuals that they were close to on this side. Could Celeste see him? Did she ever try? And would he be able to sense her watching? Surely he would sense something if she were, wouldn’t he? But he hadn’t felt her at all, not since the day she left.

  Frustrated with that realization, he dropped the purple page on the couch, then moved to the second sheet. As usual, it listed rules for dealing with the spirits. Naturally, he knew them all, but since he was required to read the pages in their entirety before his assignment officially began, he read them again. They were pretty basic. Take care of the spirit’s needs in a timely manner, don’t abuse the bonding that occurs between medium and spirit, and don’t touch a spirit.

  He dropped the sheet of rules on top of the first page and moved to the final page, the official document directing his grandmother to assign Prissy Fontenot to one of her grandchildren. His assignment, like the rules, was straightforward and to the point. Basically, he had one day to make sure the young spirit took care of her business on this side and headed toward the light.

  One day. Not much time for visiting, but the spirits seemed to know best when it came to ghostly requirements for crossing. Maybe the little girl would get too attached if she spent longer with her parents before crossing, and then find it harder to go to the light. Or maybe someone was waiting for her on the other side, and she needed to get there quickly. There were all types of reasons that the powers that be could have given Priscilla—Prissy—Fontenot such a short time to fulfill her requirement for crossing. But at least the requirement was an easy one, and one Dax could help her with in a prompt manner.

  If she only had to see that her father was okay and say goodbye to her parents before she crossed, Dax could tell her how to visit them. They wouldn’t be able to see her, of course, but they’d still feel her presence. Once she saw they were all right, she would immediately cross over.

  He refolded the pages and tucked them back in the envelope. How long before the little girl showed?

  “We’re here,” a small voice whispered from behind him.

  Dax’s first thought was…we? Then he turned and saw a tiny girl, smiling softly, with a beautiful golden-haired beauty holding her hand.

  Celeste.

  Her hair was as long as he remembered, the blond spirals touching her waist. Last time he’d seen her, she’d been wearing a yellow tank top and jeans, but now she wore a loose white gown that barely clung to her shoulders and was so sheer, he could almost—almost—see if she was a real blonde.

  A whirlwind of questions cluttered Dax’s mind. How was she here? And why? Hadn’t she crossed already? And why was her clothing different? Because she’d crossed over entirely? Or was it something else?

  Was she even here? Or was his mind merely seeing what he wanted—desperately wanted—to see.

  She smiled, and Dax knew this was no fantasy. She was here. His ghost had returned.

  “Celeste.”

  2

  DURING EACH of her trips to that middle room, Celeste had dreamed of seeing Dax again, had planned what she’d say, what she’d do. Now that he was right in front of her, her throat was dry, her knees were weak, and her entire body burned to get closer, closer to the only man who’d truly touched her heart, so much that even on the other side, she hadn’t been willing to let his memory go.

  And she could touch him.

  Celeste ached to reach for him, to run her fingers down the strong features of his face, brush her mouth across his and get to know him in the most intimate of ways, but she still didn’t know if he felt for her what she felt for him. And she suspected that Dax had no idea that the no-touching rule didn’t apply to spirits.

  The tiny girl beside her squeezed Celeste’s hand and reminded her of the main reason she couldn’t act on impulse right now. She couldn’t even attempt to confront whatever existed between the two of them until they took care of Prissy.

  “Celeste?” Dax’s hazel eyes were as mesmerizing as she remembered, dark brown lashes further emphasizing the golden flecks around their center. Those eyes drew her in, held her captive. He looked so good, so real, so alive. And there was something deeper in those eyes, an intensity that she believed she recognized and understood. Desire. The way he was looking at her…was exactly the way she was feeling toward him. As though he couldn’t wait to get as close as possible, and to do all of the things they hadn’t done before.

  She forced herself to swallow, then nodded.

  “You—haven’t crossed,” he said, his head shaking slightly as he made the statement, as though it wasn’t possible that she was standing in his grandmother’s sitting room, in the very place where she’d met him before, with another little girl by her side.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Why didn’t you?” he asked, stepping toward her, and one corner of his mouth quirked up in that semi-smile she remembered. She licked her lips and imagined teasing that sexy smile with her tongue. There were so many things she wanted to try, wanted to do.

  “I’ve wanted you—wanted to see you—again.” His head shook again, still apparently trying to determine how she’d returned. “Where have you been?”

  She wished she could give him an answer. “I don’t know.”

  Evidently tired of listening to the adults and ready to get to her own mission, Prissy tugged at Celeste’s arm. “Is that him? Are you Dax? The one who’ll take me to Daddy? I need to make sure he’s okay, and I want to te
ll him and Mama goodbye.”

  Celeste tried to focus on the little girl and not on Dax, but Adeline Vicknair’s words kept whispering in her thoughts.

  “Twelve hours at best, but more likely six.”

  She didn’t have time to waste, but they had to help Prissy get to her parents. What if that took all the time she had? And what if she never could get back again? She wanted to talk to Dax, really get to know him, learn as much as possible about him before she crossed. And she wanted to make love with him.

  “You’ll help me?” Prissy asked, and Celeste put her own fears at bay. Hopefully, she’d still have at least a bit of time left after they helped the little girl. Maybe not enough to experience everything she wanted to, but she wasn’t going to worry about that now. She had another chance to be with Dax, and she was grateful for whatever time they got. As soon as they took care of Prissy, she’d spend every minute, every second, with him.

  “Yes, I’ll help you,” Dax said to Prissy, then he gave Celeste a soft smile. “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought—well, I didn’t think I’d see you again. There’s so much I want to say, but—” he looked at Prissy and smiled at the eager expression on her face “—I need to get you to your folks first, don’t I?”

  She nodded, and Dax crouched down to eye level with her. Then he looked up toward Celeste. “You’re here? I mean, you aren’t leaving anytime soon?”

  “Six to twelve hours,” she said honestly.

  His smile slipped, but then he nodded. “I’ll take what I can get.” Then he turned his attention back to Prissy. “I will help you see your parents again, okay?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Okay.”

  Celeste noted how at ease Dax was with the little ghost. He obviously knew that crouching to her level would make her more comfortable; he was the type of guy who would remember those kind of little things, the type of guy who paid attention to details. Celeste wondered if that trait carried over to other aspects of his life. Was he always that in tune with what people needed? Would he be that in tune to what his lover needed?