Kiss Me Forever/Love Me Forever. Rosemary Laurey

this a hobby, buying old books? Or what you do for a living?” She’d been dying to ask. Having done so, she felt like a pushy American.

      He didn’t seem to mind. “It’s a hobby. With some old friends, I’m assembling a library on the occult and the paranormal. I offered to buy from your Aunt Hope, but she wouldn’t part with anything. I’m glad you agreed.”

      His shirt was open at the neck, showing a vee of fair skin and a few stay curls of dark hair. She forced her mind back to her question. “What do you do for a living, then?” Nothing that she’d noticed so far.

      “Some years back, I made a few lucky investments. I’m a layabout. I write when the muse strikes me, drive too fast, ride when the weather’s fine, and get on Caughleigh’s nerves.”

      She couldn’t hold back the chuckle. “I’ve noticed.”

      He shook his head. “Watch out for him, Dixie. The only person he’s ever helped was Sebastian Caughleigh.”

      “I can take care of myself.” Was he pursuing her just to get at Sebastian? “I came by yesterday to see you. The door was open.”

      His smile didn’t quite become a laugh. “You left a plate of little chocolate cakes.”

      “They were brownies.”

      “Brownies.” This time it was almost a chuckle. “You know the local meaning? Brownies are little people. They cause milk to sour, hens to stop laying and haystacks to self-ignite.” His mouth twisted in a way that almost mocked her. “But of course, you wouldn’t believe in them. You’d put them in the categories of witches and vampires.”

      “An interesting local myth.” It came out sharper than she’d intended but the hurt look on his face caused a twinge of guilt. “You don’t share my skepticism. The occult interests you.”

      He smiled, but not at her. “That’s why I’m building this library. Why not search for knowledge if it’s there to find?” He tapped one of the books. “There’s old lore here. Forgotten ideas. Old dreams and nightmares.”

      “I prefer to stick with realities.”

      “Everyone has different realities, my dear Dixie.”

      That did it! She certainly wasn’t his “dear” anything. He had mentioned realities, she wanted one explained. She reached into her pocket book and closed her hand over her appointment book. “There’s something I want to ask you.” She pulled her hand out of her bag. “I noticed this when I brought the brownies and wondered if you’d explain.”

      She placed it on the tabletop and watched his knuckles whiten as they clenched the table edge. She swore she wouldn’t speak first. He owed her the explanation.

      “So, the kindly neighbor act was an excuse to come snooping.” An icy cynicism crackled through his words.

      “It was not!” Dixie felt the tabletop under her fist. “I tore a sheet off your message pad to write you a note, and the whole stack fell to the ground. I picked it up and just happened to find the agenda I’ve been missing since I arrived.”

      “And how did you get in?”

      “I opened the back door. You left it unlocked.”

      “I did, did I? How remiss of me.”

      “Yes, you did, and you’re lucky it was only me. It could have been a burglar. There are enough of them around here.”

      “I’m not worried about burglars.”

      He actually had the gall to grin. Dixie pressed her palms on the table and leaned forward, her face tensing in a frown. “You’re avoiding my question, buster. Where did you get it and why was it sitting in your kitchen?”

      “Isn’t that two questions?” He raised his hands up, palms out, as she leaned across the tale. “Alright, Dixie. You want to know where I got it?”

      “Yup.” She waited, determined to stand her ground until she got her answer.

      “Caughleigh gave it to me. I offered to return it to you.”

      “But you didn’t.”

      “I’m afraid I forgot about it.”

      She’d worked in schools long enough to know a lie when she heard one. “Why would Sebastian give it to you? I was in his office on Wednesday and I’m seeing him tomorrow night.”

      Christopher’s mouth twisted as his eyebrows curled. “Enjoy yourself, my dear.”

      That did it! “I expect to.”

      “I hope you’re not disappointed.” It was almost a whisper but she heard it clear as day.

      “Why should I be?”

      “Because, my dear Dixie, Sebastian Caughleigh is not the man for you.”

      The laugh came from somewhere deep inside. She shook her head. “I’m thirty years old, Christopher. Old enough to decide these things for myself. Look, I didn’t come here to fight. I just wanted a straight answer. Maybe I got it. I’ll probably never know. Thanks for the check. Assuming it clears okay, our business is over.”

      “Maybe,” he replied and walked her to the door. “Take care, Dixie. Make sure you choose the right company.”

      Just what did he mean by that?

      What was the truth about her organizer? Had she dropped it in Sebastian’s office? If so, why would he give it to Christopher? They acted more like adversaries that friends.

      Christopher had to be lying. Why did she want to believe him? Did it matter? She’d see Sebastian tomorrow night. She’d ask him. And why believe him? Being a lawyer didn’t guarantee integrity. She’d learned that the hard way.

      Chapter Six

      Perched high in the elm tree, Christopher watched Dixie lock her car and then go in the front door. He’d replayed their conversation a dozen times since she left. She didn’t trust him now, just as well. He was nothing but bad news. But how he ached for her—his own fault. If he hadn’t tasted that one time he’d never have known the warmth of her soul and the sweetness of her lifeblood, and now he’d spend eternity missing her.

      He had no choice. He had to leave Bringham. Tom was right—it was getting too dangerous. If he stayed, it was only a matter of time before Caughleigh sussed the situation. And the thought of Caughleigh weaving Dixie into his machinations…Christopher’s fists balled up at the idea. He’d take up Tom’s invitation to stay in South Audley Street. Soon. He sagged against the tree trunk. By Abel! He was weaker than a fledgling. He shouldn’t have gone out this afternoon. The sun sapped his strength and it would take more than a day’s rest to restore him.

      He had to feed. Sebastian’s new hunter wouldn’t match Dixie’s sweetness, but the prospect held a certain satisfaction.

      Clicking her seat belt as Sebastian closed the door, Dixie wondered why she’d agreed to come.

      He seemed to have no doubts at all. “I feel lucky tonight. I think we’ll win.” He flashed white teeth at her.

      Win or score? She’d play Whist and that was all.

      The same people she met at the Whytes’ filled the village hall. Hardly surprising. This village made a small town seem like a metropolis, but there was a certain security in placing names on familiar faces—Emma with Ian, Sally, who looked very different with her hair cut short all over, Mark Flynn, the bank manager, and Emily Reade.

      “Emily!” Sebastian almost hissed the name as she toddled towards them, a tin tray of sherry glasses in her hands.

      She beamed at Sebastian. Dixie merited a polite nod. “Settled in your new place, are you? Have a sherry. We’ve sweet or dry. What do you prefer?”

      Dixie chose dry.