Lori Avocato - Nip, Tuck, Dead

Nice.

Still, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, someone had been in there. Someone had opened the window. And someone had opened my drawers. Couldn’t have been the maid.

Right about then I’d love to have known that it actually was a ghost’s shenanigans. I wouldn’t mention someone being in my room though because it might tip the culprit off that I was investigating the fraud.

It took some doing, but I was beginning to convince myself that I couldn’t let threats and a sense of danger interfere-and paralyze me from my job.

I had work to do so I slipped off my shoes and jeans and thought I’d forgo a shower until the morning. When I unbuttoned my shirt, took it off and left on the camisole, I decided I at least needed to wash up. I turned toward the bathroom and walked into the doorway-and screamed.

Go home.

Just as my eyes were rereading the lipstick-written message on the mirror I heard a crash and felt arms around me.

So I did what any normal girl would do. I slammed my foot onto his toes and jabbed my elbow back-into a very soft spot that made him yell.

“What…the…hell! Pauline?”

“Jagger!” I swung around to see him double over in pain.

Oh, boy. Guess he wasn’t in any mood or condition to congratulate me on my quick self-defense reflexes-which I’d learned from him.

He looked up at me with his forehead wrinkled and his lips pursed. “Put on some clothes.”

Put on some clothes? That was all he could say after I’d been scared to death by a ghostly open window, a lipstick threat, and the door to my room being busted open? As a matter of fact, it did feel cool. In my current brush with fear I’d forgotten that I had been getting ready for bed. I looked down. Oops. I went to yank a towel from the rack, which pulled out of the wall and clattered to the floor, taking said towel with it. When I bent to grab it, I looked up.

Jagger was still staring.

Since I couldn’t get the towel fast enough, I decided to follow my earlier advice and act nonchalant. Act as if nothing had happened. Hell, I’d have on less in a bathing suit. However, I would not be standing in a hotel room (very close quarters with a bed in it) with Jagger ogling me in a bathing suit. I’d be in the wide-open spaces of a public beach where male ogling wouldn’t be so personal.

I did manage to walk into the other room and say, “Stay there until I change.”

“How the hell…can I move…after your…attack?”

Good point. I hurried to throw my jeans and top back on. I didn’t worry about the outside shirt since I probably should be running down to the kitchen to get a bag of ice for Jagger.

Without my shoes on, I went back into the bathroom. “I’ll go get you some ice.”

He glared at me, freezing me on the spot.

“Okay…no…ice. Geez.” Well, obviously I had no idea how a guy felt or at least how Jagger felt and he surely wouldn’t listen to my medical/ nursing voice of reason. “Here. Let me help you to the bed.”

When I went to take his arm, he didn’t pull away but merely sat there. I couldn’t have budged him if I’d wanted to. “Okay. Stay there.” I went to the sink and poured a glass of cold water then turned to hand it to him. “Here.”

He shook his head and winced. This time I know he winced because I at least could read anyone’s body language when it came to pain. Lord how I prayed Jagger was not really injured. Really prayed hard.

For no permanent damage.

“What the hell is a glass of water going to do, Sherlock? Get me some scotch or tequila. That is what I need, not freaking water.”

I set the glass down on the sink. “Sorry. I’m fresh out.”

“Go ask Arlene.”

“You’re serious?”

He pushed himself up to stand, and when I reached out to help, he raised his hands in the air. “Stay away. Go.”

“Well. I was only trying to help,” I mumbled on my way out, but when I looked over my shoulder, I saw Jagger ease himself very slowly onto my bed.

I leaned against the door frame and sighed.

The kitchen was dark and empty, but no surprise. It was late and I knew Arlene lived in the carriage house behind the lodge. When I walked to the back door, I thought I heard someone behind me. “Arlene?” Had to practice on speaking more assuredly with possible “Sam sightings.” “Arlene, is that you?”

A shadow appeared at the door.

My hands flew to my face. I was getting very used to living in this B movie and gasping every other scene. Geez.

“Not Arlene, little lady. It’s me. Mr. Cooper. Just arrived this afternoon and got lost. Looking for the stairway to my room.”

I slung myself against the door frame and pointed. “Behind you, through the dining room and off to the left.”

“Thanks, little lady.”

I smiled although Mr. Cooper probably couldn’t see well enough in the dim lighting to discern that I was not a little lady. Pretty soon I was going to have a séance and summon damn Samuel to confront him-and tell him to leave me the hell alone.

The screen door slammed behind me, hitting me in the butt.

“Give it your best shot, buddy. I’m ready for you now.”

All the way to Arlene’s door I kept looking to the sides, behind me, and behind me again. No footsteps sounded on the gravel drive, so I figured I was alone. Still, I walked carefully, since my feet hurt, and headed onto the grass, where I was able to bite back a scream after a darn cat had darted out in front of me. “Shoo,” I whispered, looking around for its owner.

All alone.

I was all alone.

I shuddered and hurried to Arlene’s front door, grabbing the knocker and slamming it so hard the entire town of Newport probably heard it.

The door swung open. A gigantic Airedale lunged at me, pinning me against the ivy-clad arbor and started licking my face. Eeeeeeyew!

Arlene grabbed at his collar. “Get down, Delilah!”

Make that her collar. “You heard your mom, girl. Down.” I wiped my hand across my cheek. “Hey, Arlene. Jagger…well, he wants…er…needs a glass of liquor. Your choice. He’s in no shape to be picky.”

She looked at me a second, mumbled an “Excuse me” and left. Within seconds she was back with a very expensive looking bottle half full of scotch. When she held it out to me, she smiled.

Hm. She didn’t look the least bit curious as to why he’d need the liquor nor did she ask.

Interesting and so very mysteriously Jagger-like.

“Thanks. I’ll bring the rest back.”

She shook her head. “No you won’t.”

All the way back to my room I wondered if Arlene meant that I would drink some of it too-or she knew Jagger would finish every last drop.

Just how well did she know Jagger?

Once Jagger had finished his last sip of Arlene’s scotch, and wasn’t moaning any longer when he moved, I stood up from the chair near the bed and said, “Can I help you to your room now?”

He raised an eyebrow and for a few seconds only stared.

“Okay. So you don’t need my help. Fine. Go ahead and get up yourself. You know, Jagger, I feel horrible about hurting your…well I’d feel horrible no matter where I hurt you, but it wasn’t on purpose.” I had to concentrate very hard not to let my voice get shaky, and if any traitorous tears started to form in my eyes I was all set to refuse them to materialize.

“I would think you’d be proud of me for taking care of myself, remembering what you taught me, and, well, having great reflexes.”

“Beautiful.”

I wrinkled my forehead. “Excuse me?”

“I said beautiful.” He remained motionless on my bed.

Gulp. “Are you saying I’m pretty or something?” I sat back down in the chair, preparing myself for the answer. Odd that he was talking about that at a time like this though.