Storm Surge by Celia Ashley Page A

you on the stairs. When I looked, no one was there.”
    Liam paused a moment in his adjustment of the curtains and then continued, his back to her. “You really never noticed anything like that when you lived here?”
    “Hearing footsteps and finding no one? Not that I remember. Are you going to try to tell me this house, the house I grew up in, is haunted?” She moved to stand between him and the curtained window. Even now, his nearness caused her blood to heat.
    “Yes, that’s what I’m telling you,” he said.
    “I don’t believe in ghosts, Liam. But tell me, why wouldn’t it have been haunted when I was a kid?”
    Liam twitched a shoulder. “Recent catalyst?”
    “Like what?” She considered a moment, eyes widening at the implication. “Not my father dying?”
    No matter what her father had done, who he’d hurt and who he’d abandoned, Paige had no wish to see his spirit, his soul, whatever energy survived after the body had failed, trapped in some kind of limbo. Because that’s what people said, didn’t they? Ghosts had unfinished business, couldn’t move on, whatever claptrap believers touted.
    “I didn’t say it was your father,” Liam murmured. “This house is nearly a hundred and twenty years old. It was built around the turn of the last century, but you knew that, I suppose.”
    Paige barely heard him. Her thoughts had returned to the morning, when she’d looked up at the window and witnessed a shadow converge with and pass over Liam’s, moving faster than he had been. “Liam, don’t misunderstand me when I ask this. It’s not the same question I asked earlier. Was there someone with you when the sun was coming up?”
    “No.” Quickly. Maybe too quickly.
    Paige narrowed her eyes at him. His expression remained bland as he faced her with the curtain still in his fist, giving the material one final tug. His blue eyes looked black in the lamplight.
    “I need to know,” Paige said. “Please tell me.”
    Dropping the curtain, he came to her and took her hand, pulling her down beside him on the cushions. He shook his head. “No. No one was with me. Why?”
    Turning her fingers in his warm grasp, she realized how cold her own had grown. “I was outside and I looked up. I saw you in the window. I saw someone, or something, with you. I saw what I thought was their shadow moving past.”
    He remained silent for a small time, finally rubbing his free hand across his eyes. Releasing her, he stood. “Thank you for telling me. Are you hungry? I know it’s late, but I’ll make us something to eat.”
    Paige rose beside him. “That’s all you have to say?”
    “That’s it.”
    “You’re not surprised.”
    “Surprised? No. But confirmation troubles me in ways I can’t even begin to explain.”
    She frowned. “I haven’t confirmed anything.”
    He turned a condescending expression on her. Unreasoning anger shot through her veins like boiling water. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it before a word escaped. Loosening her curled fingers, she flattened her palm against her thigh. She knew this scenario. She’d played it out many times before. Sex, pick a fight, move on. Most men were happy to have it that way. But she and Liam hadn’t had sex yet. And she held a deep suspicion Liam Gray wasn’t most men. “Can I help with dinner?” she asked. Reasonably, she hoped. “What are you planning on making?”
    Scratching his head, he gazed at the ceiling in thought. “I have leftover beets. Three or four eggs. Enough ham and bread for a single sandwich. Think we can make something out of that?”
    Paige snorted. “If we skip the beets? Definitely.”
    * * * *
    Though attentive and shockingly kind, Liam kept himself at a distance. She couldn’t blame him. He’d invited her into his house for her protection. If he slept with her, the night and however many days that followed could get complicated pretty quickly. She wasn’t even sure he wanted to. Not emotionally, anyway. The