Marie Harte - RetroCog

Nothing is ever fucking simple when it comes to Jack Keiser’s missions.

Noah should have known better. When he’d arrived in Superior two days ago only to find the painting had been stolen, it seemed par for the course that this simple retrieval, like Price and Foreman’s own mission two months ago, would be just as complicated. Tracking down the painting hadn’t been too difficult, but seeing the identity of the thief hadn’t panned out. In his visions of the past, Noah saw nothing but a dark shadow mired in the disappearance—as well as in the death of the painting’s last owner.

He grimaced, missing the simplicity of the pioneer mother and her infant son in the parking lot of the gym back in Bend. The minimalism of life before man and civilization encroached on the splendor of the mountains had been a beautiful thing.

The unique perfume of danger and intrigue saturated this case. His fascination with the missing painting bordered on obsessive, and he knew it. But now, having seen Lara, he knew the real thing didn’t hold a candle to Emilio Vala’s portrait.

A coincidence the inn’s manager just happened to be the spitting image of the woman in the portrait? Noah didn’t believe in coincidence. There was something going on here, something more he hadn’t yet seen. And what about that ghostly image layered over Lara? What the hell had he stumbled onto here? And why had Jack assigned him this case, considering the bevy of talent they had at home?

Nathan could touch an object and know about it and the people who’d touched it. Avery knew the future. Chloe heard truth. Aidan could ferret secrets out of a person’s mind. Why send Noah, a man who often lost himself in dreams of the past, on this wild-goose chase? Even after Noah had reported the painting stolen, Jack had insisted he remain on the case. Why? What was his bastard of a boss up to?

An hour later, after cleaning up and lugging his bag up to the room, Noah locked his door before descending the stairs. The noise of people laughing and talking grew as he studied the busy lobby and dining area. A good crowd enjoyed the heady aroma of coffee and sweets, and his stomach rumbled.

Wanting to eat as much as he wanted to find answers, he decided on the quickest way to accomplish both. Sliding through the mass of cheery patrons, he found Lara and Frank comparing notes as they studied the cash register.

“It’s Lara, right?”

The pair blinked at him.

Lara blushed and glanced down at some receipts, and Noah would have given a lot to know what she was thinking. Telepathy would have been more than welcome right then. He concentrated on keeping his inner shields taut when a transparent coil of dark hair slithered over her face. A closer study showed her hair held back in a ponytail, though a few strands had escaped that she’d tucked behind her ears—ears studded with familiar rose-shaped silver earrings.

“Hi Noah. Everything okay?”

He blinked, and the earrings vanished. He shored up his internal shields, praying they’d hold.

“Noah?”

“Yeah. I’m great, thanks.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing he wasn’t so awkward around the living. Dead people ignored him but never made him feel unwelcome. The past wasn’t choosy about its participants. The present, however, could be brutal. “You think you could show me a good place to get something to eat?”

He sounded harsh, even to his own ears.

“Um, I guess.” She sounded hesitant, her eyes searching as she studied him with a curiosity he could all but feel.

Frank gave her a gentle nudge in Noah’s direction. “I’ll watch over everything here, Lara. Shelly has the evening coffee all taken care of. Why don’t you go grab some dinner. You’ve barely caught a break all day.” Frank ran an assessing gaze over Noah. “Take your time. I’ll bet a man as big as Noah has a huge appetite.”

The red on her cheeks was gratifying. This might be easier than he’d thought. Noah would find the information he needed to get the damn painting, then hightail it home. And maybe take a taste of Lara while he was at it. A gentle, normal , sexual taste. A small test, to prove to himself he could be happy with easy, consensual sex.

“I am a bit hungry.” She considered Noah. “Or I can give you directions, if you’d rather. Not everyone likes company, and you’ve been traveling today. You must be tired.”

To his surprise, the exhaustion he might have expected after being up for twenty-four hours didn’t register. “I’m good.”

She shrugged and drew his attention to her breasts. Nice, just as round and attractive as her fine ass. Noah had more ideas about exploring her body than he did about retrieving the painting, so he forced himself to focus on her face once more. Since she’d been rummaging behind the counter for her jacket, she hadn’t noticed his study.

Frank smiled. “Have fun, you two.”

Then he wiggled his eyebrows and leered at Noah without a seeming shred of remorse.

Lara shrugged on her thin coat. “Ignore him, and he’ll go away. Or so I keep telling myself. It’s been six months, and he’s still here.”

Noah guided her to the front door, his hand on the small of her back. Even covered by a shapeless nylon jacket to ward off the wind, she looked feminine. Not petite, not someone he’d break if he bent her over and gave her a firm smack on the ass, but a woman built to suit a man’s needs. He could too easily imagine her dressed in garters and stockings and nothing else. Her panties absent, just those pearl-white cheeks shining back at him as he pushed himself inside her. Then he’d reach around to grab her tits and pinch her nipples hard. She’d cry out for more. With Lara, the rougher the better…

“Noah?”

He inwardly cringed, hoping he hadn’t said or done anything to draw attention to his raging erection. Fuck, why is this happening now ? He’d spent years avoiding this side of himself. So why now? Why here? He could only thank his long coat for disguising his arousal. What the hell was it about this woman that he had constant sex on the brain? He wanted to blame it on the old brothel. But with the exception of Lara’s vanishing earrings, the ghosts of the past now remained absent.

Quickly joining her outside, he did his best to ignore the sway of her hips. “Sorry. My mind wandered.”

To his relief, she said nothing about his distraction. “You like spicy food?”

“Sure.”

“Great. Then you’ll like this place.”

They walked in companionable silence to a cheerful café down the street. Painted in bright colors against an adobe backdrop and brick floor, the small restaurant had plenty of customers when they entered, as well as a smell that made him salivate. Mexican food—his favorite. His stomach chose that minute to growl.

Lara smiled. “Guess you’re hungry.”

As they took off their jackets and sat, she studied him, and he wondered what she saw. He was about to ask her…something…when the waitress arrived with chips, salsa, and water. She handed them menus and left.

“The enchiladas are my favorite.” Lara closed her menu and poured herself some salsa into a small bowl. As she munched on chips, she started in with the questions. “So you’re from Oregon?”

He’d been prepared. “I live there now. Pretty area. My parents live out East, but I got tired of all the traffic and hustle.”

“I’ve always lived in Washington, the state, not DC. I moved out here on a whim not long ago and found the inn.”

I , not we . She had to be single. She didn’t wear a ring. And no way some dumb-ass boyfriend would leave a woman who looked like Lara alone at night to go out with male guests.

He grabbed a chip. “The Lady Fine Inn has a lot of character. Great history to the place.” Whores and cowboys galore.