Free Spirit of Seduction by Wynter Daniels Page B

to his
manicure but his simple declaration stirred wickedly erotic
thoughts. Why she was attracted to a man she disliked, a man who
obviously couldn’t stand her, was a mystery to her yet she couldn’t
pretend the attraction didn’t exist. She recalled their interaction
two years ago at a birthday celebration for Becky. He’d actually
called her a shyster to her face, in front of the thirty-odd party
guests.
    “I need to talk to you,” he added.
    She clenched her jaw and forced herself to
concentrate on the here and now. “Why didn’t you just call me? Why
go to the trouble to make a manicure appointment?”
    His sheepish shrug fanned the flames of her
attraction. “I didn’t think you’d agree to speak to me after…you
know, what I’d said to you.”
    “I spoke to you at Becky’s funeral and as
far as I can remember, I didn’t bite your head off, did I?”
    “Yeah, but that was a
funeral. You’re not that cruel, are you?” He gave her a wink and an
unwanted jolt of heat coursed through her.
    His teasing dissipated some of the tension
and she managed to smile. “C’mon back.”
    He shrugged out of a faded leather jacket
and hung it over the hook near the door, giving her a view of the
vee from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist. She had to admit
he had a certain muscular, rugged appeal. And his kind of muscle
was built through hard physical labor rather than in a gym. If she
remembered correctly, he restored old houses himself then flipped
them, did all the upgrades and repairs himself. She pictured him
shirtless, sawing a two-by four, as she’d seen him once working on
something at Becky’s house, his well-developed biceps and triceps
flexing with each stroke. Her face flushed and the room grew
warmer, but she forced herself to squash the memory.
    He walked with her to her nail table,
looking totally out of place in the pink and white salon in his
jeans and the t-shirt that hugged every sinewy inch of his chiseled
upper body. “I wanted to talk to you and a phone call wouldn’t cut
it.”
    She swallowed hard and curled her fingers
over the edge of the table. “Is this about Becky? Did they find out
who did it?”
    The furrow in his brow deepened as he sat
across from her. “No, but it is about her. You know I’ve never been
a believer in all that supernatural junk like you…and Becky.”
    She stiffened at his
characterization and felt a headache start behind her eyes.
Her gift had only
brought her fear and grief.
    “But something happened last night to change
my mind about all that.” He glanced side to side then lowered his
voice. “I saw her, or her ghost, I guess. Scared the shit out of
me. She disappeared so fast I couldn’t ask her anything like why
she was there, or…”
    “Or who killed her.” A chill crawled up her
spine.
    One of the owners of the salon walked past,
helping an elderly client to the door. Emily picked up a nail file
and started working on Ryan’s nails. Last thing she needed was for
her boss to find out about her psychic powers. That part of her
life was over. She waited until the woman was out of earshot before
speaking. “I’m not sure what you want from me, Ryan, but—”
    He gripped her wrist to stop her from filing
his nails. “You helped the police with a murder case a while back.
If I hadn’t seen Becky or her ghost or whatever that was with my
own eyes I’d have never believed it, but she needs something from
me and I don’t know who else I can turn to.”
    She slipped her arm out of his grasp. “I
don’t do that anymore.” Terrifying memories flashed through her
brain but she banished them in an instant.
    One of the other nail techs caught her eye.
“Everything okay, Emily?”
    “Fine.” She leveled a warning stare at Ryan.
“I can’t have this conversation here. No one knows that I’m…what I
used to do.” She’d left New Orleans to get away from her mother and
the fortunetelling business she ran. But she’d been drawn back