Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"You all right?" Liam asked, his arm around her shoulders as they watched television.

"I'm fine." Which was true except that she'd been having to endure his picking apart the show she'd chosen for them to watch.

"You're quiet," he said, watching her now instead of the screen.

She let out a wry laugh. "You should be grateful for that."

He narrowed his eyes as if evaluating her. "What happened today? Something in the shop?"

Of all the times she'd wished Liam would be more present and observant, now was not one of them. "Nothing happened."

"Natalie…"

"What are you a mind reader now?"

"Apparently I am a ghost hunter now, at least according to Harper who is so impressed by my tape recording. Mind reader is the next logical step, I figure. Do you think Madame Letisha has an opening for an apprentice?" A cocky, crooked smile quirked up one corner of his lips.

She narrowed her eyes at him over the mention of Madame Letisha, in spite of that damn sexy dimple of his showing and making her want to bite his chin.

"Fine. Yes, something happened. Gabe is mad at me for not telling Harper the truth. And I don't know… it's upsetting." She lifted one shoulder.

"Do you get this upset when you and I argue?" Liam asked.

"Do you think you're ever going to stop being jealous of my friendship with Gabe?" she countered.

He screwed up his mouth. "I'm not jealous."

"You sound jealous."

"Well, I'm not." He scowled.

Great. Now they were both upset over Gabe, just for different reasons.

Although she had to admit, Liam had been pretty great. After his initial grumpiness over her not telling Harper and implicating him in her lie and the fake tape, he'd gotten over it.

More importantly, Liam had stood behind her decision to keep her ghost communications quiet. Maybe he was worried he'd be marked as the boyfriend of the loon in town who thought she could talk to dead people. Not that Liam—a loner at heart—had ever been the type to care much about what people said or thought about him. Which was a good thing since half the town had thought he was a serial killer when he'd first moved here with his cadaver lab and the body bags started to show up.

She ran a finger over Liam's muscle. "Hey."

His gaze dropped to her hand on his chest and he said, "Hey."

"Do you wanna… you know?"

His brows shot high. "You're not too upset over Gabe to… you know ?"

She screwed up her mouth at his being a smart ass. "We don't have to if you don't want to?—"

"I want to." Before she could say a word he was on his feet, pulling her to hers.

What had to be hours later, Natalie came awake.

She had the distinct feeling that something had disturbed her. That this was not a normal waking up, even though that so often happened to her in the middle of the night in spite of how tired she was.

As her body came slowly out of sleep, her mind pondered the situation. She wasn't sure what had disturbed her but one thing was for certain. She wasn't happy about it.

It had taken forever for her to finally get to sleep tonight. First because Liam was very thorough in all things he did—sex included. Then, long after he'd fallen to sleep, her mind kept replaying her talk with Gabe that morning.

True to form, her brain always liked to obsess over the worst part of her day just when she needed to sleep.

Worse, falling asleep wasn't her only problem. Getting back to sleep without staring at the clock for hours after being awakened in the middle of the night was. That was nearly impossible. It took hours. Because of that Liam had long ago been warned about her feelings on this subject. He knew well not to wake her up for middle of the night sex.

At forty she was old enough to know that sleep was sexy. Not being exhausted all day. Sexy. Not having shadows under her eyes. Sexy.

But her awakening tonight had nothing to do with Liam. He slept like the dead next to her. Not moving. Breathing so softly she could barely hear him. As usual.

His being a good sleeper—and not a snorer—was the only reason she allowed him to stay overnight at her place. Okay, maybe his sleeping like the dead wasn't the only reason she let him stay in her bed.

The multiple orgasms from earlier tonight were a big reason why he slept over most nights—when he wasn't working all hours of the night on his research project at the lab. And in the cold weather, he was like having a furnace in bed with her to snuggle up to. Which was why in the summer, or right now while they were still having mild early fall weather, she had the ceiling fan in the bedroom turned on.

That fan currently produced a nice, cool, soothing breeze as it brushed against her face. That was another good thing about Liam—besides his hot body. He was good at doing stuff. Stuff like hanging fans in hundred and twenty year old buildings with tin ceilings.

Ting.

She frowned as the odd sound interrupted her thought. It sent her mind spinning as she tried to place what the noise was.

It couldn't have been Mr. Darcy. The uninvited squatter of a cat who'd claimed the renovated train-station as his home slept in the front of the building, on top of the shelves in the book shop. Not back here in the part she'd fixed up as an apartment.

Ting.

There it was again.

It was almost like a soft metal sound. Not loud like a bell, but small like the gentlest clink of a spoon against a champagne glass—which was ridiculous. Who would be clinking glasses around here now?

Gabe and all the ghosts knew none of them were allowed in her apartment under penalty of death—so to speak. This was her sacred space.

Besides, in all the time she'd known them, they never went around clinking or clanking anything. Her ghosts were nothing like Scrooge's chain-rattling specters. Thank God.

So what was it then? What was making that noise?

She tried to reason it out.

The sound was coming from above her, near the ceiling. Was it a big fly hitting the tin ceiling over and over again?

Ugh. She stifled a groan. There was nothing worse than wondering. She had to know.

Sleep and Liam be damned. There was a mystery to solve. There was no way around it. She was going to have to turn on the light to figure this thing out.

As she reached out her arm toward the lamp on the side table a series of things occurred, though it was such a confused jumble she couldn't be sure in what order.

There was a kind of a whack followed by a thud as something—something that felt much larger than a fly—hit the bed.

At the same time she managed to turn on the light, which led to her seeing what had landed on the bed.

That's when the screaming started. Hers, because there was a freaking bat on her bed. And Liam's as he startled awake and yelled, "What's wrong?"

"Bat!" she screamed, somehow managing to form the word.

He cussed but being a military man, he jumped into action.

Liam dispatched with the threat in what felt to her almost in slow motion. He flipped the top edge of the comforter over the still motionless bat. Then proceeded to flip the other three sides of the comforter, forming a kind of bat burrito.

"Oh my God, get it out of here!" she screeched.

"Relax. I got it." His nonchalance didn't make her feel much better.

She was definitely going to have to throw out the comforter. Possibly the ceiling fan too.

She watched as Liam opened the back door and tossed the whole bundle outside into the night. Then, he went outside and started to unwrap it.

"What are you doing?" She scrambled out of bed to rush to the door. "He could wake up any second and try to fly back in here."

"Then close the door," he said, glancing up as he flipped the final corner of the comforter over to reveal the dark creature—still not moving in the center of the fluffy white bed covering.

Keeping the door mostly closed, she peered through a two-inch crack and asked, "Is it dead?"

"It's probably just stunned. It must have gotten hit with the blades from the ceiling fan," he explained much too calmly in her opinion.

"Well, get back inside anyway. Before it bites you."

"It's more likely to fly away. They're more afraid of you than?—"

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard that all before. I don't care. Get inside."

Liam, barefoot and shirtless in nothing but boxer shorts—he didn't sleep naked mostly because he didn't trust there were no ghosts around to see him—looked damn good in the moonlight. His muscles all hard and bulging.

She started to think about what else could be hard and bulging and suddenly she wanted him inside for a different reason. A completely non-bat related reason.

Opening the door wider, she stepped aside so he could come in. Then, she decided to take one more look at the bat.

Shit. It was gone! She squeaked and slammed the door shut. And then locked it.

Liam glanced back at her. "What's the matter?"

"It's gone."

"Told you it wasn't dead," he said, grabbing the two throws she kept folded on the sofa before heading back to bed. "You'll have to wash that bedding in the morning.

"Or throw it out," she said, while hunching and scanning the ceiling for more aerial predators.

She reached for the pull chain on the fan. She'd rather be hot than whacked with unconscious bats in the night.

Once the fan, which she would forever more think of as a "bat whacker" began to slow to a stop, she walked to Liam as he flipped one throw out, letting it float down onto the sheet below.

She pressed against his back as she wrapped her arms around him. She needed comfort and a distraction after this horrifying scare. "So as long as we're awake anyway..."

He turned in her arms, dark brows cocked high.

"There's a rule. Your rule. No middle of the night sex. Remember?" He smirked, even as she felt something besides his muscles bulging against her.

"Technically, the rule is no waking me up for middle of the night sex. You didn't. The bat did. So…"

He reached down, palmed her bottom and lifted her up. She squeaked again, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"So technically, I guess this is okay," he said.

"Definitely okay," she agreed as he tossed her onto the mattress.