Haunting Rachel by Kay Hooper Page B

mind.”
    “Do that. Can I give you a lift somewhere?”
    “No, thanks. I have a leased car I’m trying out.” She didn’t see any reason to confide in him about the possibly sabotaged brake line. “It’s over there. So thanks anyway.”
    “Off to look at another store, or has this one caught your fancy?”
    “This one’s a little small, but possible. I’ve just started looking, though, so no decision is imminent.”
    “Glad to hear it.” He glanced around them. “You wouldn’t know to look at it, but this neighborhood isn’t the best. A higher crime rate than some of the worst parts of town.”
    Rachel didn’t bother to tell him that she would have researched the crime rate as well as other important elements before making a decision. She merely said, “Well, maybe the third place will be the charm.”
    “Where is it?”
    “On Queen Street. The Realtor was enthusiastic.” “I imagine so. It’s pricey real estate. But a good location.”He took a step back and turned toward his car. “Let me know if I can do anything to help, Rachel. I’d be happy to.”
    “Thanks, Nick.”
    She watched as he got into his car with a grace uncommon in such a big, powerful man, and moments later the black sedan had purred its way out of sight.
    She was still wary of Nick.
    And she had a feeling it had definitely shown.
    Shrugging off a lingering unease, Rachel used the key the agency had provided to go into the store, and spent another ten minutes or so checking it out.
    Naturally, her thoroughness had nothing to do with Nick’s dismissal of the spot as a good prospect.
    But she reached the same conclusion for different reasons, however reluctantly. The layout of the interior was wrong, would require considerable remodeling, and that was not something Rachel wanted to waste time with if at all possible.
    So she got back into her car and drove to the next spot, on Queen Street. Nick had been right about this area as well; it was high-ticket real estate boasting some of the most exclusive stores in Richmond.
    An area no more than two blocks long, it was designed with foot traffic in mind, with wide sidewalks and handy benches placed near the decorative and functional lampposts. Parking was handy without being intrusive, and a nearby police station was undoubtedly a deterrent to crime.
    Rachel was impressed by the store she had come to see. It was slightly larger than she had planned, but temporary walls could take care of that until—hopefully—the need for expansion arose. Other than that she could see no structural problems. There was even a huge office spaceand storage area in the back, both of which would come in handy.
    She was standing in the center of the front part of the store, jotting down a few ideas for colors and a decorating style, when a voice from the open door caught her by surprise.
    “Rachel?”
    Adam Delafield.
    “Hello. What are you doing here?” After the first moment of surprise, her heart rate had returned to normal. Or almost.
    “I was going to ask you the same thing.” He came in and crossed the space between them. “I was in a store across the street, and thought I saw you come in here.”
    “I’m … thinking of starting a business. Fashions designed by me.”
    “So you’re not going back to New York?”
    Rachel realized it was a question she was going to hear a lot. “No. I don’t think so. I belong in Richmond.”
    “Ghosts and all?”
    Whether it was the cryptic note in his voice or simply the reminder, Rachel found the question a difficult one to answer casually, and confiding in this virtual stranger was impossible. So she tried to keep it light. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
    “Don’t you?”
    “Of course not.”
    “You thought I was Thomas Sheridan.” There was something almost insolent in his voice.
    “Yes, I did,” she admitted. “Thomas—alive and well. Not his spirit haunting me. I never believed that.”
    Not for a moment. Right.
    “In any case,” she