him and he cinched his arms around her thighs. As she let go of the railing above, her body jerked but he yanked her toward his chest, stumbling backward. Something smacked the railing. He hugged the body tighter and threw himself back against the wall.
He crashed into the plaster and fell sideways, all the while clutching the soft body to his solid frame. His back hit the floor and still he clung to the woman, taking her down with him.
The back of his head thumped against the hard wood floor. He sucked in a breath, a heady perfume flooding his nostrils, and realized his nose was buried between a pair of luscious breasts in a soft cotton T-shirt.
The woman on top of him gurgled once, scooped in a deep breath and rolled from his body. They lay on their backs, side by side, chests rising and falling.
Matt sat up, wincing as his ribs expanded. He flexed his fingers and glanced at the woman panting next to him, a swath of dark hair across her face. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
His gaze traveled the length of her body. Her black T-shirt molded to her upper torso, revealing a sliver of skin above the waistband of her tight jeans. Blue polished toenails peaked from a pair of glittery sandals. And that hair.
A sense of familiarity jolted him. Long, black hair whipping through the elevator doors, a flash of green eyes. He bent over the prone form and brushed the hair from her face.
Sculpted black brows snapped to attention over a long, narrow nose. Nostrils flared.
“You!”
Kylie Grant struggled to a sitting position, nearly clipping his chin with her head. He jerked back, his jaw hardening.
“So you do recognize me. At the hotel, you acted like you’d never seen me before in your life.”
Her cat eyes narrowed. “Who says I recognize you from anywhere other than the hotel?”
“Cut it out, Kylie. We were in the same class at Coral Cove High.”
“Same class, different universe.”
“You and your goth friends occupied a universe all to yourselves.” Dread pumped through his veins, and he pointed a finger at the ceiling. “Were you trying to off yourself up there and then changed your mind?”
Her jaw dropped and she scooted away from him. “Absolutely not. I was…I was…”
Matt smacked his forehead. Leave it to Mr. Sensitivity to stick his size-thirteen shoe in his mouth. Kylie’s mom had committed suicide in this very house. “I’m sorry.”
She huffed out a breath and scooted farther away, pinning her back to the wall. “Just because you probably saved my life, it doesn’t give you license to act like a jerk—although you never needed a license before.”
He let that zinger zap him right between the eyes. He deserved it. “What were you doing up there? Did the railing break away?”
“Yeah.” She hunched her shoulders, her gaze darting to the ceiling. “I was leaning over the railing and it snapped. Luckily, I was able to grab on to a stationary piece of wood, or at least mostly stationary.”
He rose to his haunches and gripped the railing. “A lot of wood in this place is worm-eaten. I didn’t know the house was this bad. Where’s Mia St. Regis?”
“I have no clue, probably running a major fashion house.” She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “What are you doing here?”
He raised his brows at her accusatory tone. “Uh, it’s a good thing I was here…to save you.”
Her eyes, resembling a pair of emeralds, glittered in the flashlight’s beam. Kylie had always seemed remote and untouchable in high school. Not that he’d wanted to touch her…then. She’d hung out with a weirdo artsy crowd, and he was enough of an outcast himself that he didn’t need to court any of his own kind.
He stood up, stretching to his full height. “I was exploring.”
Kylie Grant didn’t need to know his business in town. Once he started his investigation, his purpose in Coral Cove would come out soon enough. But by that time, maybe Kylie would be on her way. Her presence at the hotel meant she didn’t live in town…unless she was visiting someone at the hotel.
She scrambled to her feet, her shiny sandals catching the light and winking in the gloom. Leave it to Kylie Grant to treat a visit to a haunted house like it was some kind of prom.
“Looks like exploring this house can be hazardous to your health.” She flicked her long black hair behind her shoulders and it rippled down her back.
She glided past him and he caught a whiff of her musky perfume. She’d left the same scent in the hotel elevator and he’d gotten a strong dose of it when he’d planted his face between her breasts.
“I’m going upstairs to get my purse and flashlight.”
He swung the flashlight forward, waving it back and forth. “You’re going to need this to make your way up there.”
She held out her hand, and he rested the flashlight against his chest. “I’ll come with you.”
He clumped up the stairs behind her, his motorcycle boots thumping against each step. How had she not heard him from the third floor? When she crashed through the balustrade, she didn’t even call out for help. Matt hadn’t been sure what had caused the ruckus until he saw her dangling in midair. He hadn’t realized anyone else was in the house.
As he followed her up the stairs, he aimed his flashlight right at her sexy behind encased in those tight jeans. Who knew Kylie Grant had a derriere like that? All through high school she’d worn long, black skirts and silver-studded boots, which probably made her look chubbier than she really was.
Kylie spun around when she reached the third-floor landing, and Matt shifted the light to her face.
Her lips formed a thin line as she wedged a hand on her hip. How did she know he’d been checking out her assets?
“Maybe you’d better go first.” She tilted her chin toward the dark landing. “You know, rotten wood and all.”
He skimmed the light along the floor. “Didn’t you say you had a flashlight?”
“Must’ve burned out. I left it on the floor next to my purse.”
He squeezed past her on the top step and inhaled her perfume again—made him think of dark, mysterious ladies.
She stiffened.
Maybe those stories about Kylie being a mind reader were all true. Matt took two steps toward the broken banister and hunched his shoulders. “It’s cold up here.”
Kylie drew up beside him and nodded. Then she dipped and scooped up her purse and flashlight. She flicked the switch and another beam of light zigzagged across the jagged wood of the balustrade.
“It does work.” Matt didn’t recall seeing any light from the third floor as he’d made his way up to the second earlier tonight.
