Dead People In Love (Haunted Hearts) Read Free

the ghost. As if time were suspended. Donovan frowned at the entranceway to the hall. Olivia watched it with her body on alert in a way that reminded Cassie of a cat expecting an enemy.
    A moment later, a woman followed Rose into the room. Black hair, velvet brown eyes, rosebud lips. She was thinner and taller than Cassie, but shorter and with more curves than Olivia. About the same age, Cassie thought. Late twenties, though she had nothing else in common. Wearing a bright red top, purple slacks and no makeup. Her face was wider than Olivia’s and she didn’t have a classic beauty. More like Gypsy Woman met Thrift Girl.  
    Her glance flickered to Cassie then Olivia and onto Donovan. Landing and staying there. Her lips parting.
    He stared back at her, his eyes wide, his mouth open as if he was seeing something extraordinary.
    Love at first sight, Cassie thought with a mental groan. I might have to poke my eyes out.

 
    Chapter 3
     
    Before Cassie could blink her endangered eyes, the woman’s gaze narrowed and her eyebrows slashed down. “Are you Rose’s grandson?” she demanded.
    He ducked his head, like a dog caught chewing a favorite shoe. Olivia slid her hand around Donovan’s upper arm and pulled it close to her breast. Claiming ownership.
    The woman turned to Rose. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.”
    “I’m fine, dear, thank you.” Rose gestured to Donovan and Olivia. “This is my neighbor across the hall, Bridget O’Malley. She’s condo-sitting for Alice, who’s in London with her newest husband. Bridget, this is my grandson, Donovan, and his fiancée, Olivia.
    “Grandma’s mentioned you before,” Donovan said. “You’re using her oven.”
    “Only until my new oven is installed.” The color in her cheekbones heightened.
    “Alice lets you do this?” Olivia’s eyebrows rose.
    “She’s thrilled that I’m putting in a new oven.”
    Cassie watched them as if they were figures in a play, committing every word and expression to memory so she could repeat it to Luke.
    “Olivia,” Rose raised her tone and her chin, “is that your business? Alice happens to be Bridget’s aunt, and she also loves to cook.”
    Now it was Olivia’s turn to flush. “I’m trying to protect you.”
    The look Rose gave her was not one that Mrs. Santa would ever use. “Really? Then why do I feel like you’re trying to smother me?”
    Cassie wished she had a video camera. She glanced at the ghost staring in fascination. He was closer but had floated upward again. Clearly waiting to see what was going to happen next.
    Apparently even dead men loved a cat fight.
    Donovan shook his head, his mouth anguished. “Grandma, don’t do this. You’re killing me.”
    “No, what you’re doing to me...” The fight left Rose’s face, the spark in her eyes dulled, her shoulders drooped, and her voice lowered to a melancholy whisper. “It’s you who are killing me.”
    Suddenly the air felt heavy. Thick. Poisonous. Cassie’s stomach pretzeled and she put her hands over her belly. She no longer wished for a camera. She just wanted to get the hell out of this place.
    What was happening here wasn’t funny anymore. It was real and it was ugly. Too close to what she’d gone through when she lived with her father, stepmother and half-brother.
    Those days were over and she didn’t want to relive them. Even with a ghost thrown into the mix.
    She picked up her purse. “Excuse me, but I’m leaving. I don’t have time for this. You’re all wasting my time.”
    As they stared at her—a quick glance upward told her even the ghost was staring—she realized she was ready to walk out of the job. Something she’d never done before.
    Before she married Luke she’d had more patience. And less money. And nothing else better to do.
    She looked at Rose. “You don’t need a ghost therapist, Mrs. Bellington. You need a good lawyer. You sound sane to me. No one should have the right to put you in a nursing home. See your