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A Date with the Other Side

A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(53)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“A ghost expert?” Shelby didn’t like the sound of that. It seemed like a surefire way to tick Red-Eyed Rachel off, and Shelby imagined Gran wanted to keep intact whatever valuables remained in the house. “I don’t think so.”

Adrienne was persistent. “Well, then, how about we set the cameras up to run day and night and see what we can record? We can run this story in a special segment in a week.”

“Like reality TV?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

The reporter nodded. “In a way. But we would edit out any time when nothing’s happening. We’re only looking for activity. People will flock here if we get something on tape.”

Oh, swell. Shelby tried to work up enthusiasm. “But then Boston would have cameras invading his privacy.”

“It’s only for a couple of days,” Adrienne scoffed, like she wouldn’t mind having a camera catching her without makeup or hair products.

Boston squeezed her hand. “I don’t mind,” he said, though he looked like a cow had sat on him. In pain.

“You don’t have to do that!”

“My source tells me that the ghosts seem to respond with the most force when the two of you are in the house together,” the reporter remarked, giving their entwined hands an interested stare.

“Who is your source?” So Shelby could hunt them down and kill them.

“Normally I don’t reveal names, but since we need your cooperation in order to do this, I’ll tell you. It was Brady Stritmeyer and Amanda Delmar.”

“What?” Shelby squeaked. Her own flesh and blood . . .

“I guess it wasn’t wise to leave them together at the house,” Boston said, looking more amused than annoyed.

“What are you smiling at? You’re the one who’s going to get stuck with a camera watching you sleep for two days.”

“Well, actually,” Adrienne interjected. “I was hoping you’d stay in the house as well to ensure that we get things, uh, riled up.”

She was getting all riled up, alright.

Because Boston was now grinning.

He should tell Adrienne Ashley, reporter, to leave Shelby out of it. He should remember his own resolve to respect her wishes and stay away from her, for both her sake and for the safety of his heart.

But it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Shelby sharing the White House with him day and night, torturing him with her sweet natural scent and her no-nonsense attitude. It would be difficult not to want to make love to her, but with the cameras playing Peeping Tom, he figured he could control himself.

And it was a way to steal more time with Shelby before he had to leave Cuttersville behind.

It might not have been the wisest thing he’d ever done, but he nodded enthusiastically. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Ms. Ashley. You can set the cameras and sound equipment up and let them run for the remainder of the weekend. Monday I have to go to work, so I need them to be removed by then.”

Before Shelby could interject, he swept his arm open. “Come on in and get started.”

“Excellent.” Adrienne gestured to her cameraman and they went in the front door.

Ignoring the expression on Shelby’s face, he said, “I’ll call Brady and have him come over and keep an eye on the house while they’re setting up, and I’ll take you home to pick up your overnight bag.”

He pictured Shelby in a filmy white nightgown, the ultra-feminine kind that stopped above the knee, with a high waist and a little ribbon running through it under her br**sts.

His mouth went dry.

“I’m not spending the weekend here.” Shelby didn’t look as if she had filmy nightgowns on her mind as she glared at him.

“I’m doing this all for you,” he said with a manipulative wheedling that should have made him feel ashamed of himself. But it didn’t. “Nothing ever happens unless you’re here with me, and think of the business a story like this could bring. I bet the Columbus channels pick up on it too, and you’ll have more tour-goers than you know what to do with.”

Shelby crossed her arms over her chest and looked torn. “You won’t . . . try anything will you?”

“Why? Afraid you can’t resist me?” he teased, running his thumb over her wrist that wasn’t injured.

“You know I can’t!” she snapped.

While he’d been fairly certain that was the case, he’d expected her to lie about it. That she didn’t thrilled him. “I can’t resist you either. So why are we?” He remembered there had been reasons, but they just didn’t seem relevant anymore. He wanted to tuck Shelby Tucker up into his bed and romp the weekend away.

“Because.”

“Because why?”

She shot him a look of exasperation and tried to tug her hand away. “Because . . . because!”

“Because because why?”

He wanted to laugh at the outrage distorting her pretty features. He should have been concerned about her unenthusiastic response, but he wasn’t. In fact, he was feeling pretty damn good. Shelby was his for the weekend whether she liked it or not.

Shelby was his, period. He loved her. She made him feel younger and happier and freer than he’d ever felt, and he didn’t want to give that up. It was just going to take a little coaxing, that’s all.

“Because you’re a bossy brat, that’s why.” She wrenched her hand from his.

Okay, so a lot of coaxing. But hell, they had all weekend to work on it.

Boston leaned forward and nuzzled her neck. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

Shelby didn’t say anything, but when he looked up, the truth was there, for him to see plain as the charges on Amanda’s credit card. Shelby loved him. He had been teasing, but she did.

Nothing had made him feel so triumphant, so joyous. The other stuff didn’t matter. She loved him, and they would work out all the minor details later.

He cupped her cheeks, tilted her head, closed his eyes . . . and met empty air.

Shelby had ducked out of his touch and turned her back on him.

Minor details. He had all weekend to work them out.

Jessie Stritmeyer watched her grandson hang up the phone in her kitchen and grin.

“Boston wants me to come and watch the house while the TV crew is setting up.”

“So he agreed?” Jessie was a little surprised, truth be told. Boston Macnamara wasn’t a man who liked his hand forced.

“Yep.” Brady had the nerve to pull out a cigarette and stick it in his mouth.

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