The Bone Bride Read online

  Her sister gave a weak smile that was an answer in itself. Living with her thirty-seven-year-old sister wouldn’t be near as much fun as living with her best friend.

  Misti trailed a fingertip along the edge of the glass shelf. “Lucky wants to move in with me.”

  Daira bit back the urge to tell her “No.” Misti and Lucky had only been dating for a few months. He was good-looking and Misti thought he was charming. All Daira saw was a twenty-three-year-old kid who preferred bumming money, off his parents and girlfriend, to working.

  “Does he have a job now?”

  “He says he’ll get one.”

  “You’re a good student, Mist. You’re smart. Don’t let Lucky hold you back.”

  “Julie’s really happy. She’s so in love. It’s like she smiles at the whole world.”

  “We all want that someone special in our life. You’re only twenty. There’s time yet.”

  “I wasn’t talking about marrying him.”

  “Then why live with him?”

  “Don’t you get tired of being alone?” Misti asked. “Don’t you ever wake up in the middle of the night and wish there was someone lying next to you?”

  All the time.

  “When the right one comes along do you really want to be living with the wrong one?”

  “What about Rory?”

  Where did that come from?

  “What about him?”

  Misti shrugged. “Any sparks?”

  There had been plenty of sparks in the backseat of his car. In the twenty years since, the few men she’d been with hadn’t come close. No doubt that particular fire had been the result of teenage hormones. Right?

  “Those sparks died a long time ago. Besides, I’ll probably never see him again.”

  Chapter Three

  “How did you know where I live?”

  Rory’s smile was mysterious. And sexy. “Amazing what you can find on the Internet.”

  “You gave me that line once before.”

  “I did try the phone book first.” He pressed one hand flat against the door, pushing it open further.

  Daira backed up as he passed through the doorway.

  “I didn’t invite you in.”

  “I have a feeling if I waited for an invitation, I’d be waiting a long time.”

  “You think maybe there’s a reason for that?”

  He reached out, stroking the tips of his fingers along the line of her jaw. Goosebumps ran down her skin. She took another step back.

  One corner of his mouth twitched down. “You know damn good and well I won’t hurt you, so why are you backing up?”

  “You’re invading my personal space.”

  He laughed. “Sweetheart, I invaded that a long time ago.”

  Her cheeks grew warm. “That doesn’t mean you’re going to now.”

  “It was always good between us.”

  “It was just sex.”

  “All right. It was very good sex.”

  “Will you stop it? I’m not interested in playing word games with you.”

  “Not my first choice, either.” He took another step into her living room.

  She started to move back, but he grabbed her upper arm, tugging her forward and making her lose her balance

  He leaned close, his voice soft, amused. “You almost stepped on the cat.”

  She pressed her hands flat against his shoulders and pushed. He didn’t budge. Warmth from his flesh penetrated the t-shirt he wore.

  “Let go of me.” She wouldn’t look into those dark eyes that had the power to pull her in. She was a grown woman. She wasn’t going to be seduced by bedroom eyes and a warrior’s body.

  Rory’s breath caressed her ear. “I’m not holding you.”

  When had he let go of her arm? She took a quick step back, grateful she didn’t step on the cat. She put her hands on her hips. “I’m not a mind reader. You’re here for what reason?”

  Rory held his hands up, palms out. “Truce?”

  When she continued to stare, he said, “I was wondering if you’d found a buyer for the doll.”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t even looked. Not since last night when I posted a picture of it.”

  “Did you read that bit about a curse?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t believe in curses, but collectors eat that stuff up. It should increase the doll’s value.”

  “After my mother bought the doll, Hagan, her fiancé, was killed in a car accident. I took the doll after Mom died and Ted, my fiancé, died.”

  “Why would you think the so-called curse…” He gave a little nod, and his brown eyes narrowed. “I get it. They cheated.”

  Arms folded across her chest, Daira straightened her spine. That better not be pity she saw.

  “Yeah, they cheated.” She gave a little shrug. “But you know what they say, if you want faithful, buy a dog.”

  “That sounds jaded.”

  “I’ve learned not to trust men, and I stopped believing in happily-ever-after a while back.”

  “Our relationship soured and now—”

  “Every relationship soured. Starting with ours.”

  “Daira,” he said softly. She remembered that tone from high school. It was the one that said she was being unreasonable.

  “I didn’t cheat on you. We were kids. I wasn’t mature enough for marriage.”

  Her throat grew tight. “But you were mature enough to join the military?”

  He gave a harsh laugh. “I joined the Marines in June. Desert Shield started in August. The Corps sent me to the Gulf. Believe me, I grew up fast. War has a way of knocking immature and self-centered right out of you.”

  She swallowed against the constriction of her throat, picked Lemon up off the floor, and rubbed her cheek along the top of his head.

  “I ran into your sister right after Desert Storm ended. She said you were all right.” Daira had never paid much attention to the news until the first Gulf War.

  One corner of his mouth twisted in a self-depreciating smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask her to tell me to drop dead.”

  She raised her chin. “Maybe I did, and she didn’t pass the message along.”

  Rory laughed. “Believe me, Amy would have told me if you had. She was pissed about the way we broke up.” He rubbed a hand over hair that was much shorter than it had been in high school. “That whole right-before-the-prom thing. You girls really took that seriously.”

  She raised her eyes to his, suddenly feeling childish. “It’s a girl thing. The dress.”

  “You didn’t get to wear yours.”

  “I wore it the next year, to my senior prom.”

  He moved a step closer. She held her ground.

  “I owe you a special night,” he said. “We could go to Oklahoma City. Dinner and dancing. I’ll even buy you a corsage.”

  A whisper of a laugh escaped her.

  “You could wear your prom dress,” he coaxed. “I’ll bet it still fits.”

  “I don’t have it anymore.”

  “I thought you ladies hung onto those things?”

  “I didn’t.”

  He cupped her chin. Her skin quivered in response to his touch. Daira took two steps back, breaking the contact. She shook her head. “I’m not into games.”

  Lines creased his forehead. “I asked you for a date. No mention of games.”

  She shook her head. She’d been hurt by too many men, from her own father walking out while she was still in diapers, to Ted cheating on her with a coworker.

  “Let’s just say I’m not interested and leave it at that.”

  He surprised her by smiling. “Sounds like a challenge. If there was one thing I learned after twenty years in the Marines, it’s how to rise to a challenge.”

  He pulled a card and pen from his shirt pocket, scribbled something on the back of the card, and set it on the end table.

  “Just in case you need me.”

  And then he was gone.

  C
hapter Four

  Janet Mable set a can of Coke on the table next to her chair. Ringless fingers danced over the keyboard as she typed a comment on one of her favorite blogs. Her younger sisters, Joanne and Jean, accused her of living her life through romance novels and blogs. They constantly urged her to go out and find a life. Fine for them to say. They were happily married with five kids between them.

  It wasn’t fair. She had the same brown curls and blue eyes as her sisters, the same curvy figure. How come she couldn’t find a good man, only creeps and losers? At thirty-five she was long past the age where most of the women she knew had married.

  Janet checked two more blogs, finished her Coke, and clicked on the site for the scrimshaw doll.

  Her eyes locked in on the newest photo; the doll in a wedding dress. There hadn’t been anything new on the doll in a while. She’d gotten into the habit of checking the site only once a month.

  Janet search the dates on the blog, smiling when she saw a new post. She looked it over and sighed. Apparently all that had been added to the site was a picture and a short caption.

  My mother purchased this doll from a place called Pawnderings. It came into my possession when she died last year.

  Daira G. Anadarko, OK

  The doll was a thing of beauty, a gift meant to ensure true love and monogamy, the very things that were lacking in Janet’s life.

  Her eyes moved over the post again. Anadarko. The doll was only an hour away!

  ****

  Daira set a cup of green tea on the desk and turned on her computer. She clicked on her e-mail: a few forwards from her friends and Misti. She hesitated a moment, then typed in the site for the doll.

  There was a response to her message on the blog.

  I’d like to buy the doll from you.

  Numbers Lady, Lawton

  Daira stared at that one line. Someone actually wanted to pay her for the ugly thing.

  Lemon jumped onto her lap, curled up, and purred. She stroked the cat.

  Misti collected scrimshaw. Daira had encouraged her to take the bulk of their mother’s collection. She’d kept the doll for herself. Ironic. The very thing that made her keep it was the thing that made her hide it. The thought of her mother and the doll staring at one another when she’d found the body was just too sickening.

  Could she sell it? How much was something like that worth? How would Misti react if she sold it?

  ****

  Janet walked down the hall, head bent as she read her sister’s text reminding her they were celebrating Bren’s second birthday that weekend.

  Janet looked up. Two male coworkers stood next to the water cooler, deep in conversation. One raised his head to look at her, and the other followed suit.

  O’Brien and Halston. She refused to look at either one. Both were divorced. Bastards. They had probably cheated on their wives, left them sitting at home taking care of the kids while they scouted the bars looking for an easy pickup.

  “Morning, Janet,” Halston said as she passed them.

  She glared at him without saying a word.

  “What’s her problem?” O’Brien asked.

  Her stomach tightened. A brief image of shoving her gun in their throats, watching their eyes beg for mercy, flashed through her mind. One squeeze of the trigger would wipe that smug look from their cheating faces… Calm down. Take a deep breath. Fight the rage. “Assholes,” she murmured, as she texted her sister.

  ****

  Daira came home Friday evening, juggling a bag of cat food, a carton of milk, her keys, and her purse. Her key slid into the lock on the second try. The door swung open too fast. She stumbled, almost dropping the cat food.

  The doll sat on the couch, propped against a green-and-blue-striped throw pillow. Why wasn’t it in the hall closet where she’d left it?

  The cat food slipped from her hand, landing on her foot. She barely noticed.

  Lemon twined around her ankles as she wrestled her cell phone from her purse. She punched in Misti’s number, ending the call when it went straight to voice mail.

  Her heart was a drum in her chest. She thought about grabbing Lemon and leaving the house. She had a key to Misti’s apartment. No, that wouldn’t work. They didn’t allow pets.

  From the corner of her eye, a speck of light green seemed to beckon. She turned her head slowly, not quite willing to take her eyes off the doll.

  Rory’s business card. She snatched it from the end table and turned it over. Yes! His number was penned on the back in a far neater hand than she remembered from high school. She punched in his number, sending up a silent prayer that he would answer.

  “Rory,” she stammered, barely giving him time to say hello.

  “Daira? What’s wrong?”

  “I…” He’d think she was crazy. She thought she was crazy. She looked again at the doll. There it was. Sitting on her couch, white gown spread daintily around it, looking ugly as you please.

  “Daira? Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice shook. The doll couldn’t have opened the closet, walked across the floor, and climbed up on the couch. Could it?

  “You don’t sound all right. Are you hurt?”

  “No.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  “No! I mean…I’m fine. I didn’t mean to dial your number.”

  “Uh-huh. Come on, sweetheart. I can tell by your voice that you’re upset.”

  “I saw a mouse. They give me the creeps.”

  “Dare, I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but I’ll be right there.”

  Before she could protest, he hung up.

  ****

  A fist thumped on the door. She sent a last look at the now empty couch, imagining for a minute that she heard a tiny scrimshaw fist beating on the closet.

  Daira jumped when her front door opened. Rory stood there for a moment, then stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  “You should keep your door locked.”

  “You’re supposed to wait for someone to open it.” Her words lacked the scorn she had intended.

  He crossed the room, then took her shoulders in his hands and kneaded them gently. “You sounded frightened on the phone.”

  “I’m fine. I told you, it was just a mouse.”

  He looked at Lemon, sitting on the arm of the couch, washing a white paw. The corner of Rory’s mouth twitched. “The cat mustn’t be doing its job.”

  He studied her with those sexy brown eyes. Tiny flecks of gold and green encircled the pupil. His fingers flexed, settling on her shoulders a little more firmly.

  Why couldn’t she look away?

  He leaned closer. She pressed her hands against his chest and turned her head to the side. His kiss landed on her cheek. His lips moved to her ear, taking a little nip. She drew in a deep breath as her nipples responded.

  “High school was a long time ago,” he said, amusement threaded through his voice. “When are you going to give me another chance?”

  She turned to look at him. His nose was an inch from hers. She struggled to keep her eyes from crossing. “You think I don’t want you to kiss me because you dumped me twenty years ago?”

  “You mean there’s another reason?”

  “Yes! You’re little more than a stranger, now. I don’t go around kissing strange men.”

  His smile deepened. He leaned closer, the tip of his tongue tracing the shell of her ear. She shivered.

  “I’m not a stranger, sweetheart.” His hands slid down her arms and moved to her waist. “I’m the man who took your virginity in the backseat of my car.”

  She closed her eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

  “You were the only virgin I’d ever made love to. All these years since—you’re still the only one.”

  Something deep inside her responded, pleased that she was the only one.

  He kissed the tender spot below her ear. His hands were on her bottom now, pulling her closer.

  She couldn’t do this. She pushed agai
nst his chest and stepped back, breaking contact. Slowly she raised her eyes to his.

  The playfulness was gone from his face. His eyes were intense, focused. “Did you ever marry?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I was engaged…”

  He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “To someone who cheated. You deserve better.” He placed a gentle kiss on the corner of her mouth and stepped back.

  “I’ll give you a little space. For now.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I’m close if you need me.” Then he was gone.

  She picked Lemon up, hugging the cat. He scrubbed her cheek with a rough tongue. She buried her nose in his warm fur and cursed Rory for returning.

  ****

  Janet watched Joanne twist from side-to-side, comforting her daughter, Bren.

  Janet handed the toddler a cookie. “There you go, sweetie. Give Aunt Janet a smile.”

  Bren sniffled and managed a brave smile. Joanne lowered her to the ground. “Don’t climb under the table,” she admonished. “And if you do, don’t stand up under there.”

  Janet smiled as her niece toddled off after Joanne’s cat. “She’s so precious.”

  Joanne pulled two more cookies out of the cookie jar, handing one to Janet. “You seeing anyone special?”

  The muscles in her shoulders tensed. “You been talking to Jean?”

  Joanne shrugged. “What ever happened to that guy you were seeing last year?”

  Janet kept her face impassive, ignoring the sudden obstruction in her throat. “What guy?”

  “You know the one. The guy from work. David something.”

  “I didn’t work with him, just in the same building.”

  Joanne was so ignorant. Didn’t she ever watch the news? David’s disappearance, and his slut’s, had made headlines locally.

  “Yeah,” her younger sister said, “but I remember you saying you thought he was getting ready to pop the question, and that was the last we ever heard about him.”

  Good old David wouldn’t be popping anything anymore. She’d made a point of waiting until death glazed his eyes. Too bad she hadn’t taken a picture.

  “Well?” her sister asked.

  Janet smiled. “What can I say? He just dropped out of sight.”

  Chapter Five