“We did,” she admitted softly, drawing Daniel to the sound of her voice, to that warm and fuzzy feeling that lingered in his scattered mind.
Chapter 3
Allie rode beside Daniel in his truck. That was another thing about him that had changed. He used to drive a simple white van, but he’d traded it in for a sleek black pickup with custom wheels and tires.
Allie had never liked the van, anyway. His new vehicle was much sexier. But so was he. Everything about him left her breathless. She glanced at his profile and got warm and tingly.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Why? Don’t I seem all right?”
“You’re fussing with your seat belt.”
Because the device seemed too tight across her Daniel-deprived body. One little kiss, one little oops, as Rex had put it, sounded darn good about now. “I’m okay.”
“Are you nervous about seeing Glynis?”
Allie glanced out the window. They’d just dropped off Sam at the veterinary clinic where she would be boarded, and now they were headed to Daniel’s old lover’s house.
“Are you?” he asked again.
“Yes,” she responded truthfully. She’d never expected to confront his ex again. She’d had enough run-ins with Glynis in the past to last a lifetime.
“I can take you back to my place,” he offered. “I can do this alone.”
“No way.” Allie wanted to see the other woman’s reaction firsthand. “I wonder if we’ll be able to tell if she’s the vandal, if she’ll give herself away.”
“That seems doubtful. From what you said about her, she sounds complex.”
“She is. I was hoping this would be easy, I guess.”
Daniel turned onto Ventura Boulevard, following the directions Allie had given him earlier. “Can you still paint magic pictures?”
The question caused her to widen her eyes. “Do you remember that about me?”
He shook his head. “You told me about it.”
“Oh, that’s right, I did.”
“Well, can you?”
“I don’t know.” Her experience with Raven had started with a portrait she’d painted of him. “I haven’t been involved in anything magical since then.”
“What about sensing the presence of ghosts? Can you still do that?”
Once again, she didn’t know. “I suppose I could if there was a ghost who insinuated itself into our lives.” Last time, both she and Daniel had made contact with ghosts, but her connection to the spiritual world had been stronger than his. “Why? Are you getting a ghostly vibe?”
“No, but I feel kind of sad.” He stared out the windshield. “And it feels like a memory.” He shot her a quick glance. “How bizarre is that?”
She sat up a little straighter, stretching her too-tight seat belt. “The doctor said you’d probably regain bits and pieces of your memory.”
“I know. But I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Tell me exactly what you’re feeling.”
“That someone who mattered to me died. Someone besides my mom.”
“A woman? A lover?”
“A teenage girl, I think. But the vandal isn’t a ghost. Whoever trashed your room was a real person. A ghost wouldn’t have picked the lock.”
She couldn’t imagine a ghost slashing her bedding with a knife or using blood-red paint, either. But Daniel’s sudden sadness gave her pause. “You should tell Rex.”
“I will. After all of the paranormal stuff that happened before, we can’t be too careful.”
“I agree.” She sighed, wondering if there really was a ghost in their midst. She didn’t feel anything, but maybe her supernatural skills were gone. Or maybe she only felt ghosts that were connected to her, and this one belonged to Daniel.
He drove the rest of the way without sparking another conversation, frowning at the road. Allie didn’t talk, either. She couldn’t think of anything pertinent to say.
Finally he turned onto Glynis’s street, and Allie directed him to her house. He parked at the curb.
“Is that her car?” he asked, pointing to the silver Mercedes in the circular driveway.
Allie nodded. Daniel’s former bedmate lived in a Tuscan estate in Studio City with a spectacular view. She had lots of money and lots of style. Women like Glynis Mitchell ruled the San Fernando Valley.
They took the flagstone path that led to the front door. Exotic plants bloomed in artfully tended flower beds and heart-shaped ivy crept along the building and up around the windows, where rustic shutters were drawn tight.
Allie rang the bell, and the housekeeper, a short, stout woman with graying hair, answered the summons and spurned them with a bitter look. She was fiercely loyal to her employer and had given Allie trouble before.
Daniel gazed at her as if she were supposed to be Glynis. “She doesn’t look like Bettie Page to me.”
Allie bit back a smile. He knew darn well that this snippy old broad wasn’t his former lover.
The housekeeper raised her eyebrows at him, but whether she was reacting to his smart-aleck remark or to the obvious changes in his appearance was unclear. “What do you two want?”
“We’d like to see Glynis,” Allie responded.
“Mrs. Mitchell is relaxing.”
With a martini, Allie thought. Oh, wait. Glynis favored a cocktail called Vampire’s Kiss. That was her drink of choice.
“We’re not going away,” Daniel said. “So you may as well tell her that we’re on her doorstep.”
The housekeeper stormed off in a huff.
She came back a few seconds later and pointed a crooked finger at Daniel, explaining why they were being allowed admittance. “Mrs. Mitchell is curious to see you.”
From there, she ushered them into the living room and said, “Wait here.”
Daniel glanced around, but Allie didn’t need to take in her surroundings. The house looked the same.
The décor presented mottled colors with terra cotta accents. The floors were brick, and the furniture was constructed of timeworn woods. Glynis’s late husband had collected Native American artifacts, and the stunning collection included tribal masks, baskets, pottery, small stone carvings and arrowheads. Strings of chevron beads, probably dating back to Christopher Columbus’s time, were displayed in glass cases.
Holiday decorations dazzled the interior, as well. An artificial Christmas tree shimmered with white lights and crystal ornaments.
“Well, now…” A luxuriously feminine voice sounded from the living room entryway.
Allie and Daniel spun around. There stood Glynis in all of her aging-siren glory. Her pinup-girl hairdo was perfectly coiffed with short rolled bangs and flowing, dark locks. She wore capri pants, high heels and a feather-trimmed blouse. Although she was in her early fifties, she had the figure of someone much, much younger. But didn’t most rich L.A. women? They bought themselves boobs, got liposuction if they gained an ounce of fat and did Pilates with private trainers.
Daniel stared at her, and she stared back at him.
Uncomfortable,