Mid-bleary-step, a Ha! exploded into her consciousness. Ghosts, indeed. The man clearly spent too much time with his brother. At the meeting scheduled that afternoon to introduce her to the other staff members, she’d let him know. The thought sent a thrill of satisfaction through her.
The living room looked much friendlier dominated by the growing light of day. A deep red square sofa faced a large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall over a working fireplace. Two chunks of wood lay in a woven basket on the floor, as if she weren’t hot enough. Tall bookcases flanked each side, mostly empty, though somebody had the dark humor to leave The Shining to keep her company on her first night in a haunted hotel. Yeah, real funny.
A buzz sounded at the front door.
Talia ran a hand through the tangles of her hair and straightened the tee to the sweats she’d slept in, wishing she’d gone to the bathroom first thing. Too late now.
She peered through the front door’s peephole. A woman’s face warped into view.
Talia opened the door, crossing her arms to cover her lack of a bra.
“Good morning,” the woman said. “I’m Gillian Powell. I’m one of the doctors on staff.” She held a bundle of clothes in blues and purples, a flash of look-at-me pink, topped with athletic shoes.
Dread pooled in Talia’s empty stomach. Those better not be for me.
“Nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Talia O’Brien.”
“I know. I’m so glad you’re here,” Gillian said. “It’s such a boys’ club at Segue. We’ve got Vera in the lab and Priya in research and, of course, Mama Pat, but that’s it.”
Gillian appeared to be in her middle forties and fighting each year. She was compact and overly busty, and wore enough foundation to disguise her true complexion, makeup applied with amazing and enviable precision.
Gillian stepped around Talia to dump the clothes on the sofa. “Anyway, Adam asked me to outfit you this morning for Wraith Defense.” She made a sour face. “Goody for you.”
Yeah. Goody. Talia had hoped she’d have the morning to herself before the big introduction that afternoon. No such luck.
“I think I’ve got everything you’ll need.” Gillian glanced at Talia’s comparatively diminutive chest. “Sizing should be okay…mostly.”
Talia stalled. “Um. So what exactly is Wraith Defense?”
“Just the basics of how to defend yourself. Every month we are all required to drill, but we make a pretty lousy show of it. Most of us belong indoors, in a lab coat.”
Talia’s stomach growled. “What about breakfast? I haven’t had a chance to stock my kitchen.”
“Don’t bother. Marcie, Segue’s cook, is awesome. Just tell her what you like and she’ll get it. And that way, you don’t have to do dishes. I’ll show you on the way down.”
“Are you drilling today, too?” Talia reached for the clothes. The hot pink would not be going on her body.
“No. You, lucky girl, get a ménage à trois with Adam and Spencer.”
Great. Her puddle of dread deepened. “I’ll go change.”
Adam and another man, presumably Spencer, were sparring when Gillian led her outside to a stretch of fragrant grass near the buzzing, overgrown garden. The air was clingy, the sun still filtered by the trees.
Talia stopped short. Adam couldn’t possibly expect her to fight like that.
Slim black padding protected the men’s knuckles. Each wore a molded helmet. Adam, his dark crop of hair jutting out the back of his gear, wore black sweatpants and a T-shirt. His arm muscles strained the short sleeves, the material subtly stretched over a hard, fit chest to taper to a trim waist. The pants were cut somewhat loosely, the soft fall of the fabric belying the conditioned body within. Talia’s gaze lingered in momentary surprise and appreciation, before sudden self-awareness shifted her body from chill to rapid, embarrassed heat again.
The other man, Spencer, pivoted and kicked Adam in the stomach. He, too, was dressed in black, though diagonal silver stripes accented the shirt’s ribbing and marked the breadth of his thighs on his pants.
Adam caught the outstretched leg, twisted, and sent Spencer spinning to the ground. Spencer landed on his back, coiled, and sprang to his feet. Only to be sent down again by a side strike from Adam.
Beautiful. They both had to be black belts at whatever they were doing. Gillian hooted approval.
“Enough,” Adam called, breathlessly waving Spencer down. Adam unlatched the clasp under his chin and pulled the headgear off his sweaty head. Face flushed, chest heaving, he was the most potent man Talia had ever seen. The sight of him, coupled with what she knew of his character, was enough to confirm the obvious: Adam was a dangerous man.
She wanted an icy-cold bucket over her head. She couldn’t very well make a show of fanning herself like Gillian was. Talia looked at the trees, the garden, and her borrowed sneakers. Anything but Adam.