Relative Strangers by Kathy Lynn Emerson Page A

with the supernatural. She might have imagined Adrienne after seeing her portrait. She might even have guessed correctly that Lucas’s great-great-grandfather would be his look-alike as well as his namesake. But she realized now, remembering Joyce’s photo album, that there was no way she could have seen Horatio Mead’s face before he appeared to her in the dining room.
    “We know Adrienne wasn’t murdered.” Lucas sounded calmer and seemed to be taking her proposal seriously. “If I remember right, she died of influenza. They had terrible epidemics in those days, and no antibiotics.”
    Corrie nodded. She felt herself warming toward him again and decided she must be six kinds of fool. He was all wrong for her. But when she opened her mouth, it was to issue an invitation. “I need to know why she’s haunting me. Will you help me discover the reason?”
    Something that looked like speculation danced in the depths of Lucas’s eyes, but it vanished before Corrie could analyze it. After contemplating her for a moment longer, he appeared to come to a decision.
    “All right. Let me make some phone calls. I’ll find out what resources are available. We may be able to start running down leads as early as tomorrow.”
    His words sounded like a dismissal, but they felt like an invitation. The man was wreaking havoc on her emotions. Her own confusion about just what it was she wanted from him made her decide this might be a good time for a strategic retreat.
    As she stood, intending to leave, a slight movement near the file cabinet caught her eye. She froze, doing a classic double take. Adrienne stood there, her eyes fixed on Lucas.
    “Lucas?” Corrie whispered.
    “What now, Corrie?” Lucas’s question was tinged with impatience.
    Mutely, she pointed toward the oak file cabinet, but even as he glanced that way, Adrienne began to fade. A second later, she’d vanished into thin air.
    “Damn,” Corrie muttered. “You didn’t see a thing, did you?”
    “What am I supposed to have seen?”
    “Adrienne. She was here, but now she’s gone again.”
    “Did she try to . . . communicate with you?” He sounded as if he were strangling on the question.
    “No. She just gave me that smug smile of hers. She’s apparently pleased to have found us here together.”
    “Great. Like we need another matchmaker!”
    Their eyes met. Renewed heat seared through Corrie, and she recognized an answering conflagration in Lucas’s gaze before she forced herself to look away.
    “Eventually they’ll catch on to the fact that we aren’t interested in each other.” She all but choked on the lie and could feel guilty color creep up her throat and into her face as she walked toward the door. Her hand was on the knob when Lucas’s low-voiced command stopped her.
    “Wait.”
    “Why? There’s nothing left to say.”
    “Yes, there is.”
    Corrie didn’t think he’d moved, but she felt as if he’d come closer, as if he were surrounding her. She didn’t dare turn around or release her grip on the doorknob.
    “There’s something you should know,” he said. “I owe you that much. And an apology.”
    “For what?”
    “For looking for excuses to dislike and distrust you. The truth, Corrie, is that from the minute I saw you at the party I felt . . . drawn to you.”
    Unable to stop herself, Corrie glanced over her shoulder at him. He was right where she’d left him, behind his desk.
    “Our eyes met across a crowded room,” he went on, “and I felt an instant attraction. That’s just about as corny as you can get, and as irritating.”
    Part of her wanted to believe what he was saying, the attraction part, not the irritation, but the rational side of her brain resisted. “Why irritating?” she asked.
    “Let’s just say you remind me of someone.” He was toying with another pencil.
    “Who?”
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    “It does to me.” She was a hairbreadth away from confessing that she’d felt the same pull . . . and