Spirited 1 Read Free Page A

quickly morphed into anger.
    Glaring at the cop with triumph in her eyes, she shook free of his hold. With as much pride as she could muster, which wasn’t much considering she was dressed like a prostitute in handcuffs, she strode over to her rescuer.
    “Hey, Big Jim.” She planted a kiss on his cheek.
    “Oh Lord, Jules! You look like a hooker.” Big Jim’s lips twitched.
    “I won first prize in the Pimp and Ho contest.”
    “Oh God, you really did it! April said you were going to . . . but I never dreamed you’d actually have the guts to wear that in public.” Big Jim laughed out loud. “I hope she took a picture.”
    The cop, who must have followed her, now stood so close his warm breath feathered across her ear. It sent electric tingles down her spine. Oh boy! She liked it. A lot.
    This needed to stop. Jules slid from between the men.
    “Do you know this girl?” the cop asked, oozing disbelief. “She climbed into my bedroom window tonight. She claims to live with someone named Big Jim . Then she tried to tell me she lives with you.”
    “I’m not a girl, I’m a woman.” Jules bit off the words. She lifted her chin and added, “I do live here. I moved in this morning.”
    “She’s my daughter. She—she calls me Big Jim. Family joke,” Big Jim managed to say before lapsing into a guffaw.
    “See?” Jules narrowed her eyes. “I told you so.”
    The cop took a step back. His eyebrows disappeared beneath the curly locks that fell over his forehead.
    Big Jim’s whooping laughs filled the hallway. Not seeing the humor in her situation, Jules glared defiantly at the cop.
    He gaped, clearly bewildered, but made no effort to let her go.
    With waning patience, she tapped her stiletto-clad foot on the linoleum and cleared her throat.
    “Use your key next time , precious ,” the cop growled in her ear, spinning her around. Then the cuffs were blessedly off. “You could have climbed into the window of a psycho. Good thing for you it was me. You got lucky.”
    Jules rubbed her sore wrists. “Gee, I never knew getting lucky could be so disappointing.”
    The cop opened his mouth, then snapped it closed. “Good night, Big Jim ,” he said, looking pointedly at Jules.
    “ ’Night, Lambkins !” she called out, wiggling her fingers in a mock wave as his door slammed shut.
    Big Jim guffawed again. “Jules, for a woman determined to lead an ordinary life, you’re off to an exciting start.”
    “Thanks a lot.” Jules frowned at her salacious costume. Jeez, she needed to change into her own clothes.
    With a sigh, she reached for the knob and twisted it. It didn’t budge.
    “Juliana . . .” Big Jim held open his front door.
    Dang it! That cop had her so flustered she had tried to enter the wrong apartment again.
    “You know,” Big Jim said with a snicker when she finally crossed her own threshold, “you have a terrible sense of direction for a psychic.”
     • • • 
    S TRETCHED OUT IN bed, she forced her mind to clear. Considering it was four in the morning, Jules should have been exhausted, but her mind raced. Across the room, her clothes and black wig lay in a pile on the dresser. The costume had been killer, but that wig itched all night. She scratched her head, capturing the coppery strands of hair between her fingers briefly and examining them with a grin.
    Shock value. She won for that alone. After all, who would have suspected that she—a former preschool teacher, who never swore—would dare show up dressed as a member of the world’s oldest profession?
    Pride flooded through her. All through college she’d been the oddball. The one who was different. For a few hours tonight, she was normal. No one looked at her as if waiting for her to talk to a wall or an invisible person. Or a ghost.
    Being crowned “First Ho” wasn’t quite the same as being Homecoming Queen, but the general acceptance had been glorious.
    Okay, so she had veered from her plan to be completely normal and