Sparks

Dawn scanned the lot. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see any green Chevys. Perhaps you drove something else today.”

The man shook his head. “I didn’t drive here.” He pointed to his watch. “It’s supposed to be here waiting for me.”

Dawn glanced at her clock. He probably meant the bus. “No, you don’t catch the bus here. The stop is five blocks up the road.”

“I’m not looking for the bus. I’m waiting for the Parva.”

“Never heard of it. Is it a new tour company?”

“It’s my spaceship. I was certain the Telkain people would meet me here today. Have you seen them? Their friends have to return and I’m going with them. They’re really small, but have a laser that will shrink me so that I will be allowed to join them.”

Dawn sighed. Great. First a pig, now a nutcase. Her theory was correct. There were no more decent men left. “Sorry, I haven’t seen them.”

“Do you want to? I have them right here.” He opened his overcoat. She did not see the Telkain people, but she did see everything else.

Dawn ducked back inside, hitting her head on the window frame. She swore and shut the window.

Her assistant Simone Brackus peeked her head inside. Her greenish-brown eyes showed concern. “Are you okay?” she asked in a deep melodic voice that belied her petite size and delicate features.

Dawn rubbed the back of her head. “I’m not sure.”

“Well?” Simone asked, waving her hands impatiently.

“We didn’t get the job. Brandon hired him to snoop.”

She sighed. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“I know.” She looked at the stack of mail—bills mostly. If she didn’t get a job soon Ajani Consulting will have to go on hiatus permanently. Brandon would love that!

“Another hard day?” Martin, the security guard, asked her as she made her way to the elevators in her apartment.

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow will be better.”

“Thanks.” Dawn stepped into the elevator and watched the doors closed. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be.

Jordan Taylor didn’t believe in ghosts until his ex-wife began to haunt him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t dead yet. Not that he ever harbored any thoughts of killing her. Killing her memory would be much more satisfying. Twisting its neck until all life was gone and throwing it in a trash heap to be forgotten. Yes, that would make his life perfect. Well, almost perfect.

He stared down at his bedroom floor, watching the red glow of his digital clock pierce the shadows amid the low lamplight. It mingled with the moonlight that splashed a pale glow on the carpet. Nobody thought he knew what he was doing as the new CEO of The Medical Institute. They were right, but they didn’t need to know that. And he wasn’t going to tell them.

The early April breeze tapped against his window. For a moment he considered inviting it in, letting the wind’s cool breath numb his body, perhaps freeze his thoughts. But he didn’t move.

He drummed his fingers against the mattress as his mind betrayed him, rehashing memories he’d wanted to banish, repeating words he wanted to forget. Do you take this woman—Within minutes the entire vow repeated in his memory as it had for years—for as long as you both shall live? He wondered if other grooms looked at their beloved and suddenly felt sick.

He had looked into his ex-wife’s eyes and saw the hope, commitment, and what he had mistaken for love, shining in her sweet, brown gaze and quickly pushed his doubts aside. He had willingly handed the preacher the key to his chains with two simple words: I do. Damn. He flexed his fingers, pushing the thought away.

A man should not be judged solely by his mistakes, and he did not plan on making any more. He was a simple, practical man and knew the best way to avoid future misjudgments was to act in a manner that prevented them.

He would never allow himself to be trampled on by a woman’s ambition.

He would never find himself in a situation he could not control.

He would never be ruled by emotion.

With that criteria he was certain Maxine would never happen again.

Maxine. Even her name had power, conjuring up memories like a genie from a bottle: elusive but no less real. A simple thing—a word, a fragrance—would transport him to the death of his marriage. To the death of his dream of home and family. He shook his head in frustration. What a fool he’d been.

“Jordan?”

He had to forget and think about the business. The Medical Institute was the best way to prove that he deserved the Taylor name. With the help of Ajani Consulting he would make it one of the most renowned in the region.

“Jordan? Jordan!”

Slowly his muscles relaxed as he felt gentle kisses on his neck. He emptied his mind and gave into the soft caress. Yes, finally a brief peace. Suddenly, teeth bit in to his flesh. He leaped up, grabbing his neck.

“Ouch! What did you do that for?” He glared at Gail. She had a satisfied smirk on her face. He had been dating her for four months and that smirk was becoming a common, if not annoying, expression.

“It was the only way to get your attention,” she said without apology.

He rubbed his neck then glanced at his hand. “Did you draw blood?”

She slowly licked her lips. “No, but I tried.”

His anger dissolved. He fell back and let out a weary sigh.

“Jordan?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. When I start to think—”

“Yes, I know. There’s no harm letting someone into your thoughts.”

“They aren’t worth sharing.”

She made an impatient gesture with her hand. “Maybe. But, honey, it’s no fun making love to a man whose mind isn’t there.” She stood up and gathered her clothes.

He watched her, his heart sinking with regret. He shouldn’t let her go, but he would. He always let them go. He should jump up and grab her in his arms, say the words she wanted to hear. Ask her not to leave. Ask her to be patient with him, give him time. All he needed was time.

Gail Walters was the type of woman men held on to. Either because they wanted to or they needed to—it didn’t matter the reason. They just did. She was attractive—her eyes a bewitching hazel, her skin an almost edible mocha. He smiled as he thought of the very satisfying meals he’d enjoyed throughout their acquaintance. She was kind, a rare trait in most ambitious women, and she didn’t have that desperate look of a woman looking for a breeder. She was also smart. Not that it was a requirement, but it was a nice bonus.

She was good for him, someone he could hold on to—trust. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t stop him from letting her go. He didn’t deserve her. She deserved someone else. Someone who would be there for her. Someone who felt like a whole person instead of half of one.

Jordan sat up on his elbows and watched her pull on her sweater. “You’re leaving?” It was a stupid question, but he had nothing else to say.

“Yes.” Her voice was soft, resigned. She sat down on the bed and pulled on her boots.

The room was too quiet. Silence pounded in his ears. When he wasn’t living in his mind, he liked to have noise around him. “Look, Gail—”