Griffin Gallagher gaped at his ex-wife standing fully clothed under the shower’s icy spray. Beneath a dripping wet gray sweater several sizes too big, her uniform clung to her birdlike frame, an ugly pair of shoes on her feet. Her long, jet-black hair plastered to her head, Ava stared at him through the water streaming down her pale, gaunt face.
Despite the changes to the woman he’d once loved more than life itself, he felt a familiar stirring, a familiar heat low in his belly. He was reacting to her as though nothing had changed. With her gaze riveted on the evidence of his body’s betrayal, embarrassment and anger coursed through him.
“What the hell are you doing in here, Ava?” He shut off the water with such force that he nearly ripped the lever off the wall.
Her impossibly green eyes jerked to his face, reminding him where they’d lingered only seconds before. Swearing under his breath, he covered himself with the shower curtain and then leaned to his right to grab two towels off the rack. He threw her one. She blinked and caught it before it hit her in the face.
Reeling from the realization that he still wanted her, still felt something for her after all this time, he said through clenched teeth, “Get out. Now,” and wrapped the towel around his waist.
“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you so soon. I was…I was just cleaning the tiles.”
Everything about her was foreign to him—the meek, stammering voice; the way she stood with her shoulders bowed; the raw, chapped hands that trembled as she brought the towel to her face. She looked exhausted, and she was lying.
He opened his mouth to ask her what was going on. Then quickly closed it before he uttered the questions that had been eating at him since he saw her at his great-grandmother’s funeral. Are you okay? What happened to you? What can I do to take the shadows from your eyes? It was no longer his job, no longer his right.
He’d been there before, a long time ago. And all it had gotten him was a broken heart. It’d taken him years to recover. There’d been a time when he didn’t think he ever would. With Ava, he’d never again allow his heart to overrule his head. He needed to get her out of here, and so he hauled her from the tub.
She cried out, and her face crumpled.
He released her immediately and dropped his hands to his sides, taking a step back. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t think I grabbed you that hard, Ava. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His gut bottomed out at the thought that he had. From his time as a Navy SEAL, his body had been trained to be a weapon—powerful, lethal. It was something he never allowed himself to forget. Even when he was angry, he was careful. He’d been careful with her too. He was sure of it.
“You didn’t. I hurt my arm yesterday. I’m sorry for…” Her gaze dropped, and his unruly body part perked up at the attention. She slowly raised her eyes back to his face, a hint of pink coloring her prominent cheekbones. She cleared her throat. “…startling you.”
He knew she was lying again. Just as he had all those years before. But no matter how much he wanted her gone, he had to make sure he wasn’t responsible for the pain that had been clearly etched on her face. “What happened to your arm?”
She turned to grab the bucket. “I hit it on the service cart. It’s nothing, really.”
“It’s not nothing. Let me see.” He reached for her, at the same time wondering what he was doing. Why couldn’t he just leave it alone?
“No. I…” Her gaze jerked to his hand as he gently wrapped his fingers around her fine-boned wrist. She pulled away from him, wrenching her arm as she did. He noted her desperate attempt to contain the pained gasp, the flash of panic in her eyes.
They were the same, her eyes. They no longer lit up with laughter and passion, but they were just as incredibly beautiful as they used to be. Her eyes were the only thing about her that was remotely familiar. Maybe they were the reason he couldn’t let it go. The reason he took her hand, despite her murmured protest, and carefully pushed up the sleeve of her sweater.
His breath hissed through his teeth. Her forearm was almost completely black-and-blue. He raised his gaze to hers. “You didn’t get this from banging your arm on the service cart.”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes as she tried to push her sleeve back down. “I hit it again last night. Please, Griffin, it’s just a bruise.”
“You sure about that? It looks pretty bad to me. Maybe you have a hairline fracture. Did you let Doc Bishop take a look?”
She pulled away again, and this time he let her go. They hadn’t been alone together in a long time. He hadn’t stood this close to her or held her hand, and he didn’t like the uncomfortable pressure building in his chest. He tried to convince himself that it was nothing—just a reaction to seeing the extensive bruising. His protective instincts were strong. That’s all it was. He’d react the same to anyone with a similar injury. But with Ava, he didn’t want to feel anything. Not one damn thing.
“I’m not bothering Dr. Bishop about a bruise. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of it myself. But I appreciate your concern. It looks worse than it is. I haven’t had a chance to ice it today, that’s all.”
She probably was qualified to make that call. Two months before she would have graduated as a nurse-practitioner, she’d left school. A month before that, she’d asked him for a divorce, ending their marriage with five words: I can’t do this anymore. And that’s all he got. No matter how much he begged and pleaded for a reason, those five words were all she gave him.
But the anger flaring to life inside him had nothing to do with the past. It was because she appreciated his concern, and dammit, he didn’t want to be concerned. And he sure as hell didn’t want her to think that he was.
“You shouldn’t be working. Take a couple days off.” His irritation was evident in each word he bit out. It used to take a lot to set off his temper. That had changed after he’d lost Ava and his mother and sister. It had improved some after he met Lexi.
And there it was, the real reason for that uncomfortable pressure in his chest. It didn’t have anything to do with Ava, yet it had everything to do with her. His second wife believed he’d never stopped loving Ava. It made it impossible for them to work out their other issues. Impossible for Lexi to stay with him.
Ava blinked as though surprised not only by his suggestion, but also by the harshness with which he’d delivered it. “I can’t afford to take time off,” she said with quiet dignity.
Once again he felt the unwanted pull of sympathy. Six months after Ava had asked him for a divorce, her father had been badly injured on the job. He’d been left paralyzed from the waist down. Ava’s mother had died of cancer when Ava was nine, so the responsibility for her father’s care fell solely on her shoulders. But the apology Griffin was about to make got no farther than the tip of his tongue.
Ava saw to that with the next words out of her mouth. “I’ll finish your room while you take your shower. I won’t be long.”
The last thing he wanted to be thinking about was her in his room while he was naked in the shower, but more than that, he kept seeing that bruise. “No. Leave it alone and go home.”
She looked like she might argue, then lifted a shoulder and walked to the door. Her shoes squished and sloshed, leaving a trail of water behind her. He was about to suggest she borrow some clothes and shoes from her cousin before heading home but kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want Ava to think he was worried about her.
The tension in his shoulders released as the door closed behind her. Maybe now he could get her out of his head. He dropped the towel and reached for the lever to turn on the shower, his attention drawn to the oily, black footprints left behind by her butt-ugly shoes. So much for his plan.
He grabbed a washcloth off the towel rack and got to work on the stains. Getting rid of any trace of her helped work off some of the anger and frustration still rolling around inside him. Only when he finished did he realize his hands were covered in what appeared to be black shoe polish. He looked around for a bar of soap. There wasn’t one. Turning the lever to hot, he left the bathroom to retrieve a bar of soap from his kit. He stopped short at the sight of Ava walking across the room carrying an armful of wood.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Her mouth fell open, and she dropped the logs…onto her foot. “Crap. Ow. Crap,” she yelped, grabbing her foot and hopping around.
“Ava, let go of your foot. You’ll hurt your arm.”
She ignored him, swearing in Italian while still holding on to her foot with both hands.
He released an exasperated sigh. “Stubborn as ever,” he muttered as he walked toward her and scooped her into his arms. She might be as stubborn as she used to be, but she was at least thirty pounds lighter. When they were together, she’d been all soft, lush curves. She released a surprised gasp and her arms automatically went around his neck. Beneath the smell of damp wool, he caught a whiff of the same perfume she used to wear—D&G Light Blue. It brought back memories of all the times he’d held her in his arms. Seven years of memories, most of them amazing.
He set her on the edge of the bed and cleared his throat. “Do you think your foot’s broken?”
She didn’t answer; she looked like she might be in shock. He crouched in front of her to remove her wet shoes. The old Ava wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing shoes like these. She loved heels, the higher the better. Sexy, strappy shoes that were colorful and blinged out. He never could figure out how she walked in them for hours on end without complaining. But damn, he’d loved watching her do it. He should probably be grateful her taste in footwear had changed too.
This pair though…“For Chrissakes, Ava, there’s a hole in the bottom of this shoe, and look at this.” He lifted the other shoe, flicking its flapping sole.
She made a small choking sound, her eyes huge in her flushed face.
He frowned. “What’s wrong with—”
“You…you’re naked.”
He scowled and rose to his feet. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” he grumbled, stalking to the bathroom to retrieve a towel. She was gone by the time he came back.
Colleen Gallagher walked straight through the closed door of Jasper’s room at the manor, surprised not to feel that disconcerting rush she normally did when passing through doors and such. Then again, her dander was up, so that may well be the reason why she didn’t. Or perhaps she was just getting used to this ghost gig. She’d been undead…Well, she wasn’t exactly sure what she was, but she’d missed the welcome mat to heaven more than two months before.
At a hundred and four, she’d been anxious to join her loved ones in the great beyond. In the end, though, it was probably for the best she’d missed her ride to heaven. She had to protect the Gallagher legacy.
There was also the small matter of ensuring that, when she eventually met St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, he’d welcome her into heaven instead of sending her straight to hell. She had to make amends for her past mistakes.
All she had to do to save the manor and wipe the sins from her eternal soul was to ensure her plans for her great-grandchildren’s love lives came to fruition. Which was easier than it sounded; she’d been quite the matchmaker in her day. Even in her ghostly state, she’d already successfully married off one of her great-grandsons. Liam and Sophie were a shining example of her success. She didn’t fool herself that marrying off the next couple on her list would be as easy though.
Especially now that she’d discovered a traitor in their midst.
Ah, there he was, happy as a clam sitting in a brown leather wingback chair wearing a paisley smoking jacket and black satin sleep pants, his burgundy slippered feet crossed and resting on the ottoman. She caught his smirk as he brought the china teacup to his lips.
“You think you’re so smart sending me off on a wild-goose chase, don’t you, laddie?” She moved to stand between him and his favorite series playing on the television—Downton Abbey. Not that it would do her much good. He couldn’t hear or see her, but he bloody well sensed her presence. He’d used that to his advantage today.
“Back from your hunt so soon, Madame?”
So soon? She’d spent most of the evening down in the tunnels searching for her memoirs. Which Jasper well knew since he’d been the one who suggested her book might be there. She’d been looking over Ava’s shoulder while she leafed through the books in the tower room when Colleen heard a sound outside the door. She’d walked through it…and Jasper, who’d obviously been on the lookout for Griffin, and Colleen.
“I’ve got your number now. You thought to keep me busy so I wouldn’t be about to meddle in Ava’s and Griffin’s affairs now that he’s come home. You’re as bad as that Mr. Carson you admire so much on Downton Abbey. But you’re wrong about Ava. She doesn’t deserve your censure. She’s suffered more than you’ll ever know. And I’ll be damned if you’ll stand in the way of her and Griffin’s happiness.”
Oh yes, she had her dander up all right. Admittedly, it wasn’t entirely Jasper’s fault. He was just trying to protect her great-grandson. Jasper blamed Ava for breaking Griffin’s heart. If Colleen had shared Ava’s secrets, Jasper would know the truth. She should have shared them before now. At the very least, she should have broken her vow to Ava and told Griffin.
Back then, Colleen had a good reason not to. Ava had shared her heartbreaking secret with Colleen a week before Griffin married Lexi. Colleen liked her great-grandson’s then wife-to-be and couldn’t bring herself to hurt the girl, even for Ava’s sake. Lexi had saved Griffin from himself.
Setting the teacup on the nesting table beside him, Jasper rested his linked fingers on his chest and grinned like a Cheshire cat. “It appears you’ll have to set your matchmaking sights on one of your other great-grandchildren, Madame. I have it on good authority that Master Griffin will be leaving in two days’ time. Not the fortnight Miss Kitty had planned on and you no doubt had hoped for.”
At least she and her daughter-in-law Kitty were on the same page. But the news Griffin planned to leave in two days’ time was worrisome at best. “I don’t know what you’re so happy about. You want to save Greystone from that grasping developer’s hands as much as the rest of us do, and we need Griffin’s vote. Without Ava to convince him otherwise, the lad’s dead set on selling the estate.”
Colleen had spent the months leading up to her death fending off local real estate agent Paige Townsend’s attempts to steal Greystone and the family’s five-thousand-acre estate out from under them. The thirtysomething woman represented the developer who wanted to tear down the manor and build high-end condos.
Colleen’s great-grandchildren stood to make millions if they went through with the sale. It’s why she’d set up her will the way she did. The estate couldn’t be sold unless all her great-grandchildren agreed. To date, only two of them were on the Save Greystone Team.
A scratching sound and then an insistent meow came from the other side of the door.
“Ah, it appears your partner in crime has arrived. Perhaps you should let him in,” Jasper said with a smirk in his voice.
She glared at him. He knew darn well she couldn’t open the door. These days her hands rarely obeyed her brain. There were some things she’d become quite adept at though. She walked to the television and put her hand through Mr. Carson’s face, smiling when static filled the screen. “You’ll think twice before pulling another fast one on me, laddie. Enjoy your evening. I have work to do.”
“Where have you been, Tomcat?” she asked Simon when she arrived on the other side of the door. The black cat was the only one who could both see and hear her. Sophie and Liam’s daughter Mia could see her. Lately, though, Colleen sensed that she was no longer as visible to the child as she used to be.
Simon gave Colleen a testy meow, looking at the spiral staircase that led to the tower and then back at her. Nudging his head before he ran off, he obviously expected her to follow.
“Oh, but you’re a bossy one. I’d already planned on paying my great-grandson a visit.” She walked to the staircase. There had to be a way to convince Griffin to stay until she found her memoirs.
“Stop your caterwauling. You’ll wake the other guests,” Colleen said to the meowing Simon as she reached the landing in no time at all. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly and easily she got around these days. The aches and pains of old age were no longer a problem in her ghostly state. A shame she couldn’t say the same for her memory.
Simon cast her a smug look when Griffin opened the door. Colleen rolled her eyes, scooting past her great-grandson, who wore black sweatpants and a T-shirt. He was on the phone.
“It was just Simon, the cat.” Griffin grimaced as he shut the door. “Ah, no, I’m staying at the manor. It was my dad’s idea, Lex.” He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed the heel of his palm on his forehead. “I don’t know why you’re getting so bent out of shape.”
Simon parked himself in front of the fireplace and meowed at Colleen. “What’s gotten into you? Hush now. I need to hear this. It sounds like Jasper isn’t the only one going to give us trouble.” She sat on the bed beside Griffin, trying to hear what his ex-wife was saying on the other end.
Griffin looked across the room at Simon. “Knock it off. No, not you. I was talking to the damn cat. Hang on.”
“Oh, you’ve gone and done it now. You should have listened to me and stopped while you were ahead. He’ll be throwing you out on your ear,” Colleen told Simon as she followed her great-grandson to the fireplace. Simon had managed to get himself trapped inside. He stood on top of the logs, meowing at Colleen.
“What is it that’s got you in such a dither?” She went down on all fours and pushed her head and the upper half of her body through the wrought-iron candelabra to peer inside.
Griffin scooped up Simon. “If you don’t cut it out, you can find somewhere else to spend the night,” he told the cat as he put him down. “Sorry, I…What? No, I’m here because my family asked me to come, not because I’m interested in Ava. You can’t be serious.” He paused and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, I know what you thought you saw when we were here for GG’s funeral, but you’re wrong. I’m not in love with Ava, and she’s not in love with me.”
Colleen glanced over her shoulder, catching the look of frustration on Griffin’s handsome face. “Oh yes she is, my boy. That girl never stopped loving you. If I could just find my memoirs, you’d understand why she—”
Simon meowed twice, nudging his head at the fireplace.
“Bejaysus, are you trying to tell me my memoirs are in here?” The cat responded with what could only be described as a get-on-with-it meow. If Colleen still had a heartbeat, it would have quickened.
She pushed all the way inside the fireplace at the same time Griffin said, “Okay, this is the last time I’m going to say this, Lex. There’s nothing between Ava and me, and there never will be.”
“Never say never, my boy. If I’ve taught you anything, it should be that,” Colleen said, narrowing her eyes on the wall of soot-covered bricks while keeping an ear open to Griffin’s side of the conversation with his ex-wife.
“So are you going to tell me why you really called?” Several beats passed before he said, “Sure, but why don’t you just tell me now? Okay, fine. I’ll give you a call when I’m headed home, and we can get together then.” His eyebrows drew inward at whatever Lexi was saying to him. “You sure you’re okay? All right, I’ll see you in a few days.”
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he tossed his phone on the pillow. “Simon, take my advice, stay single and play the field.” Griffin came to his feet and walked to the fireplace, rubbing his muscular arms. “Let’s get some heat in here.”
There was a scratch on the brick, then the smell of sulfur. A small flicker of flame lit the inside of the fireplace. Griffin touched a match to the logs, sparking Colleen’s memory. Her memoirs were here. She could see herself fitting them behind the loose bricks for safekeeping one hot summer night.
“No!” she cried. Then realizing Griffin couldn’t hear her, she leaned over and blew with all her might. The small flame blinked out. Her great-grandson cursed but was undeterred.
“You always were stubborn,” she groused at him after his fifth try. She wasn’t sure how much air she had left. As he lit another match, she frantically waved her arms. The small flame sputtered and went out.
Griffin snapped the long matchstick in half, tossing it on the logs. “If I get lucky, the pipes will freeze, and they’ll have to get their heads out of their asses. The sooner we sell out, the better.”