Harmony 01 After Dark by Jayne Castle Read Free Book Online

last night.
    He walked across the small, cramped parking lot of the Dead City View Apartments, let himself in through the broken security gate, and started up the stairwell.
    He had called twice before leaving the hotel, but Lydia had not answered her phone. Probably in the shower, he thought. He had considered waiting until she got to work before he talked to her, but in the end he'd decided it would be better if he spoke to her outside Shrimpton's museum.
    He was halfway down the dingy corridor to her door before the obvious explanation for Lydia's failure to answer her phone this morning occurred to him. Maybe she had spent the night somewhere other than her own apartment.
    For some obscure reason, that possibility irritated him.   She was his consultant. He had first claim on the hours that she did not spend at Shrimpton's House of Ancient Horrors.
    He started to lean on the doorbell, recalled that it did not function, and knocked instead. The door opened with unexpected speed. He caught a whiff of fresh paint.
    "Stop by to see the damage you caused, you little thug?" Lydia jerked the door wide. "If you think I won't go to the cops just because you're a kid, you—" She broke off, her eyes widening in shock. "Mr. London."
    He studied her with deep interest. Clearly, she had not yet dressed for her job at Shrimpton's. She wore an old denim shirt and a pair of well-worn, faded jeans. Her fiery hair was held back off her face with a wide blue band. The style underscored the intriguing angles of her face. There was a paintbrush in her left hand.
    The dust-bunny was perched on her shoulder, looking like a dirty cotton ball. Blue eyes blinked innocently at him. "Little thug?" Emmett repeated politely. A deep red blush crept up Lydia's throat into her cheeks. "Sorry about the greeting," she said gruffly. "I, uh, was expecting someone else."
    He glanced at the paintbrush. "Does this mean you won't be going to your office at the museum today?"
    "I wish." She wrinkled her nose. "Unfortunately, I've got less than two hours to finish repainting my bedroom wall, get changed, and get to work. Look, I know you're here because you want an update on how my search for your heirloom is going, but I really don't have time to talk right now."
    "I can see that. Mind if I ask why you didn't wait until the weekend to undertake a major household-remodeling project?"
    "I don't have much choice. One of the neighborhood ghost-hunter wannabes paid me a visit last night. Pulled a particularly nasty prank."
    Emmett moved into the small foyer without waiting for an invitation. "What kind of prank?"
    "He managed to summon a small ghost. It materialized in my bedroom. I don't know if he meant to do damage or if the UDEM just got away from him. Whatever, my wall looks like someone tried to use it for a barbecue grill. If my landlord finds out about the damage, he'll probably try to use it as an excuse to cancel my lease."
    "I'll give you a hand," Emmett said.
    "I beg your pardon?"
    Her astonishment amused him for some reason. "I can paint a wall."
    "Oh." She glanced uncertainly down the hall. "It's very nice of you to offer to help, but—"
    He removed the brush from her hand. "Let me have that." He started down the hall.
    "Wait." She hurried after him. "You'll ruin that spiffy jacket. It looks like it cost a fortune. I can't afford to replace it for you."
    "Don't worry about the jacket." He came to a halt in the bedroom doorway and studied the scene.
    He had invited himself inside because he needed to see the evidence of ghost damage. Neighborhood punk or not, the fact that his new consultant had received a "visitation" within twenty-four hours of going to work for him set off several alarm bells.
    Even though he was here to examine the wall, the first thing he noticed was the unmade bed. There was something very intimate about the sight of the tangled white sheets and rumpled quilt. Lydia had slept here last night. Alone, from all indications. He felt