Page 37 of Dream Lake

They had both forgotten about the burn on her arm. She had accidently brushed it against his shoulder. It must have hurt like hell. The realization shocked Alex’s mind into clarity. He pulled back from her and carefully gripped her arm to look at it. The quarter-sized blotch on her arm was purple, the skin slick and puffy.

Zoë stared up at him, her cheeks fever-colored, her mouth kiss-bruised. Her hand went to the taut plane of his cheek, and he felt the vibration of her palm. She was shaking. Or maybe it was him.

She began to say something, but an unearthly yowl interrupted her.

“What the hell was that?” Alex asked hoarsely, infuriated to be pulled out of the erotic dream, his heart pounding in heavy blows.

They both looked to the source of the noise near their feet. Baleful green eyes stared out from a huge mass of white fur, a thick neck cinched by a glittering band of crystals.

“That’s Byron,” Zoë said. “My cat.”

It was an enormous, weird-looking cat, with a flat face and enough fur to create at least three more of itself.

“What does it want?” Alex asked, revolted.

Zoë bent to pet the cat. “Attention,” she said ruefully. “He gets jealous.”

Byron began to purr as she stroked him, the sound rivaling a Cessna single-prop engine.

“He can have your attention after I leave.” Alex reached over to shut off the water, and picked up the first-aid kit. Grateful for the distraction, he brought the kit to the table and sat down, gesturing to a nearby chair. “Sit there.”

Zoë obeyed, giving him a bemused glance.

Alex arranged her arm on the table with the burn facing upward. Finding a tube of antibiotic cream, he applied it in a thick layer, his head bent over the task. His hands weren’t steady.

Zoë reached down to pet the massive cat, which was pacing through and around the legs of her chair. “Alex,” she asked in a low voice, “are we going to—”

“No.”

He knew she wanted to talk about it. But denial was a skill that had been honed over generations of Nolans, and it was going to work just fine in this situation.

In the silence, Alex heard the ghost’s sardonic voice. “Is it safe to come back in now?”

Although Alex would have loved to give a scathing reply, he kept silent.

Zoë was befuddled. “You… you want to pretend that what just happened didn’t happen?”

“It was a mistake.” Alex applied a bandage, meticulously sealing the adhesive edges.

“Why?”

Alex didn’t bother to soften the impatient edge of his tone. “Look, you and I don’t need to know each other any more than we already do. You’ve got nothing to gain and everything to lose. You need to find some decent guy to go out with—someone who’ll take it slow and talk about your feelings and all that sensitive crap. You need a nice guy. And that’s not me.”

“I’ll say,” the ghost chimed in.

“So we’re going to forget about this,” Alex continued. “No discussions, no repeat performances. If you want to find some other contractor for the remodel, I’ll totally understand. In fact—”

“No,” the ghost protested.

“I want you,” Zoë said, and blushed hard. “I mean, you’re the right person for the job.”

“You haven’t even seen the designs yet,” Alex said.

The ghost circled them. “You can’t quit. I need to spend time at that cottage.”

Shove it,Alex thought.

Scowling, the ghost folded his arms and went to lean against the pantry door.

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