Nights In White Satin. Jule McBride
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Lavinia strutting around the parlor, bossing Miss Marissa around.
“Probably Granny Ginny forgot to close the door,” he assured. “We’ll find some warm, happy field mice that got inside. Maybe a raccoon. Or a skunk.”
“Oh, fabulous.”
Dermott’s lips were twitching, making him look even sexier in the dark, his smile just a quick flash of perfect teeth, his eyes catching light that had no source but himself. “You’re really scared, aren’t you?”
“Of course not.” But she was, just a little.
Swiftly reaching behind him, he grabbed a flashlight, and gripped his duffel. “That decides it. We’re not waiting for the police. I’m going to prove to you that the only thing to fear is fear itself, sweetheart. We’re going in.”
“Ghost-busters unite,” she agreed, suddenly giggling, determined to push away the strange feelings warring inside her. So what if she’d taken Dermott for granted? Wasn’t that the case in most long-term friendships? “It’s a long run to the house.”
“I pulled as close as I could.”
She peered through the rain. “Ready, Mug?”
The tawny tail went wild, tapping her arm on its trajectory, and as Mug released staccato barks, Bridget reached for her own bag and pulled up the hood of a dark cape. “Did you bring an umbrella?”
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