Blurring the Lines Read online

  She snorted.

  “Seriously, you don’t need to be on your own until you know you won’t sleepwalk again. It’s dangerous, Gretch. I won’t be able to sleep, knowing something could happen to you.”

  She stared up at him and though he could still sense the fight in her, he could tell she was too tired and beat down to take him on. Her shoulder sagged beneath his grip. “I don’t know how much longer I can go without real sleep. I can’t even see straight anymore.” She took a deep breath and nodded. “So maybe just for tonight, if it’s not putting you out.”

  Something inside him relaxed. He tugged a lock of her hair. “Not at all, cher. We’re family. Let me help. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

  Her gaze dropped at that. Alone. It was what they both were right now.

  But maybe, at least for tonight, they wouldn’t be.

  Chapter 3

  ~Gretchen~

  I carried my duffel bag into Burke’s condo, almost too exhausted to hold my body upright. He’d driven me home this morning and had instructed me to pack enough things to stay for a few days. I hadn’t had the energy to argue, but now that the time was here, nerves rolled in my stomach.

  All day, I’d remained on edge, thinking about the things that could’ve gone wrong on my little sleepwalking escape. I also couldn’t shake the dream I’d had. Most of it had been hazy shreds when I’d first woken up, but as the day went on, images had cleared in my head. Images of someone taking my hand. I couldn’t see whoever it was, but I could feel a level of familiarity. The person had wanted to lead me somewhere. And I’d wanted to follow.

  Maybe my lack of sleep had finally sent me into mental shutdown. I hadn’t walked in my sleep since the days before my mom put me in therapy and on medication. Back then, I’d talked to my father in the night. Was that what was happening? Was I slipping into that crazy place grief had sent me to the last time? Wishing dead people into existence?

  When I’d told Burke I was going to see a doctor, I’d made it sound like I was going for sleeping pills. I hadn’t meant to scare him. But I also hadn’t wanted to tell him that I was worried I was truly losing it. After he’d dropped me off today, I’d gone in to see a physician I’d visited once before for migraines.

  She’d told me not to worry too much yet, that the insomnia had probably triggered the sleepwalking and the crazy dreams. She’d prescribed me some mild tranquilizers to help me get my sleep schedule back on track. I’d barely managed to talk myself into getting the prescription filled, though. Just the thought of taking a sleeping pill stirred up memories of that morning with Harris. So I’d tucked the bottle in my purse as a backup and would give this change of scenery method a chance first. As drained as I was, I didn’t see how I could avoid sleeping tonight. My body had to surrender at some point. Maybe knowing someone else was in the house with me would help my mind settle.

  Though, the other person in the house was Burke—which made me patently unsettled. He was my closest friend, and I appreciated his offer to help me, but the idea of staying here with him left me in this strange suspended state of confused emotions.

  I loved being around him. We had this tie from both being connected to Harris, but we also had formed our own bond long before that as friends. I’d known him first. So there was a comfortable trust between us. He wouldn’t be one to pat my hand in sympathy or think oh-you-poor-thing. No, instead, he made me laugh and told me wild stories that provided temporary mental escape…and sexy stories that sometimes offered a more physical escape when I needed it. I looked forward to those meetups at the coffee shop more than I wanted to admit. But that was where the sticky part came in.

  Talking about those things in a public venue, where it all seemed fun, light, and silly, was one thing. Staying with that guy in the privacy of his home was another. I had seen how he looked at me today when I was wearing my skimpy pajamas. It’d been a long time, but I wasn’t immune to recognizing male interest. And the idea had both warmed my blood and scared the hell out of me.

  Burke was a great guy. But he was a wanderer, a guy who flitted from continent to continent and woman to woman. That was his right. But I wouldn’t risk screwing up the best friendship I had just to satisfy some quick physical need. I didn’t care how gorgeous he was with that dark curly hair and those pirate eyes. Even if he would be open to something more, I wasn’t capable anyway. Harris had broken something in me that couldn’t be repaired. I could never give my heart to someone again. Not when the person could shove it back at me at any minute and tell me my love wasn’t good enough.

  Burke stepped into the condo behind me carrying bags of takeout. The smell of soy sauce and garlic wafted in with him. “Ready for some grub?”

  “I will never turn down China Heaven.”

  He grinned, that dimple appearing—the only physical feature he shared with his brother. Harris had been sandy-haired and lanky like his mother. Burke was all his dad—dark, broad-shouldered, that hint of natural tan from his Cajun bloodlines.

  “A full belly, a beer, and maybe a bedtime story, then you’ll be good to go. Just watch.” Burke set the greasy bags on the granite countertop in his kitchen. Unlike my place, his condo was in a converted warehouse building that boasted all the modern amenities. No old souls here.

  I set my things down and headed to a stool at the countertop. “Bedtime story?”

  He reached into the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Abita IPA. He popped the tops and slid one my way. “Yep. I never got to tell you about the desert.”

  Or Miss Georgia.

  I grabbed the beer, trying to play off the nerves that rushed through me at the thought. Last thing I needed was to have one of his R-rated stories dancing in my head as I tried to sleep. Even knowing the stories were about other women didn’t seem to temper my body’s reaction to his tales. My mind could cleverly switch out the Girl of the Week and put myself in her place in a blink. They were all faceless to me anyway—his lovers. He never talked about their appearance. Only about the things they did. That was what my mind locked onto. What he would look like doing them. How it would feel to be part of it. My cheeks heated, embarrassment and guilt co-mingling, and I busied myself with serving up my plate of food.

  I’d be sure to tell him to stick to the almost-starved-in-the-desert and bugs-the-size-of-your-face stories tonight.

  We ate in quiet companionship for a few minutes, and I realized how odd it was to be sitting here with him at his place. What would Harris think of this? Despite the brothers being close, Harris had never seemed comfortable with me having my own friendship with Burke. Maybe I should’ve never told Harris the story about how Burke and I had kissed one night when we were fifteen in a wine-cooler infused game of Truth or Dare. I had thought it would be a funny story to tell him—how I’d had my first real kiss trying to prove that I wasn’t a chickenshit to his brother. But Harris had scowled and asked me straight out if I had a thing for Burke.

  I had. When I was fifteen. A silly teenage crush inspired by that kiss. It’d been quickly squashed when Burke moved on to some other girl, and Harris had asked me out on a date. But I’d kept that part of the history to myself that night when I’d seen how angry Harris had gotten.

  It hadn’t been a fight, but it’d been an almost one. The kind where the apartment goes quiet for the rest of the night because each of us was chewing on our own annoyance. I’d never seen Harris get jealous before. He was the star of his family, the successful stockbroker, the Columbia graduate. But thinking back, seeing that jealousy was the first time he showed me a glimpse of the secrets behind the surface—that in some ways, he didn’t feel up to snuff. I wished I would’ve recognized it then.

  Burke’s gaze lifted to mine, and he set down his fork. “What are you thinking about, cher? You have a serious look on your face.”

  I forced a half smile. “Nothing really.”

  “Don’t give me that. You’re a loud thinker.”

  I twirled my noodles around my
fork, watching them go round and round. “You ever wonder if he can see us? You know, like whatever the after may be, if the dead can somehow observe the living?”

  He sniffed. “No. Can’t say I believe in any of that. I think when we’re gone, we’re gone.”

  I peered at him, but he wasn’t looking my way anymore. His stubbled jaw was set and he was taking small jabs at his plate of lo mein. “Okay. Good to know.”

  He let out a breath and set his fork down. “Look, I’m not trying to be a dick. Everyone’s beliefs and faith are their own business. If believing there’s something after gives you comfort, that’s great. But, for me, I don’t buy it. I think this is the only chance we’ve got—win, lose, or draw. This is it. So you better grab the most you can out of this life.” He shrugged. “And honestly, the thought of any of my dead family members watching me gives me the creeps. No, thanks.”

  My neck prickled, the sounds of last night haunting me. “I know what you mean about that part.”

  He frowned, his attention on me again. “Wait. Is that what’s keeping you awake at night? You think Harris is creeping around or something? You think he’s watching now?”

  It sounded completely crazy when he said it like that. “Not exactly.”

  His gaze didn’t leave mine. “You weren’t joking about searching for ghosts, were you?”

  I cringed. This was not a conversation I wanted to have with Burke. Or anyone for that matter. “It’s not that. I just—I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what?” He shifted his body so he could fully face me. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  I shook my head and poked at my chicken.

  “Gretch, don’t do that, don’t ignore me.”

  “Fine.” I nudged my plate away. “Sometimes I feel like he’s here, okay? I know it’s stupid.”

  Burke gaped at me for a long moment and then slid off his stool, his expression morphing into what I’d come to recognize as his game face.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, tracking his progress.

  He stepped around the counter and put out a hand to me. “Stand up.”

  I eyed his offered hand. Wary.

  “Come on. I can disprove your theory right here.”

  I took his hand and stood.

  He tilted his face toward the ceiling. “Bro, if you’re hovering around here somewhere, feel free to kick my ass for this.”

  Before I could put together what his words meant, Burke dragged me to him, cupped my face, and lowered his mouth to mine. Lips on lips. Warmth on warmth. Boom! Crash! The kiss shocked me into a stupor. All I could process was his mouth against mine, hands gripping me, and the sound he made in his chest at the contact. But then he brushed the tip of his tongue along my lips, and all at once, my senses kicked into full, pumping awareness. The scent of the Gain detergent he used, the salty taste of soy, and the forbidden feel of his mouth. My lips parted and invited a deeper kiss without me consciously willing them to do so. His tongue slid gently into my mouth, and I groaned. My hands found his waist and gripped his T-shirt like I’d fall if I didn’t keep hold of something.

  It was so different from the one kiss we’d shared so long ago. That had been two awkward kids figuring things out. This was not that. This was a man who knew how to take a woman down with one sensual sweep of his mouth. This was the Burke I’d heard about. The one who got any woman he wanted. The one who told me those sordid stories.

  That was when reality kicked in the door to my lust-filled brain. I was kissing my dead fiancé’s brother. I was kissing my best friend. I pushed back with a panted gasp. “Burke, stop.”

  His eyes were heavy-lidded, the look on his face all danger and erotic promise. But he didn’t move forward. Instead, he licked his lips and held out his hands, his smile soft when he spoke again. “See, cher, nothing. No breaking dishes. No slamming cabinets. You and I both know my brother well enough to know that he wouldn’t let me do that to you without a fight. If Harris’s ghost is around here, he would’ve done something about it.”

  I blinked, still suspended in that stunned state for a few seconds more. Then, not knowing how else to channel everything that was coursing through me, I got pissed. The anger rushed straight up my spine and out to my limbs. I shoved him hard in the chest. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  He frowned as he rocked back a step, though he didn’t seem fazed by me yelling at him or pushing him. “I’m sorry, Gretch. But you needed to see that there’s no one watching.”

  “You didn’t have to kiss me to show me that!” My heart was beating too fast, and my voice came out too shrill.

  He shrugged. “You didn’t have to kiss me back.”

  I gaped at him, slack jawed, then grabbed a handful of fortune cookies and threw them.

  He raised his hands to fend off the attack, laughing. “Hey, not the cookies. Those could hold the key to our future.” He caught one of the cellophane-wrapped cookies mid-air. “And it was just a kiss. It’s not like we’ve never done it before.”

  “When we were kids.”

  “Yes, you’re much improved.”

  “Ugh!” I stepped forward and shoved him again. “You need to warn a girl before you maul her.”

  He lifted a brow and grabbed my wrist, his eyes holding a wicked gleam. “Fine, cher. Next time I’ll warn you.”

  “That’s not what I—” I pulled my arm free. “Never mind.”

  Somehow all this arguing was making my blood heat as much as the damn kiss. I needed him to stop touching me and looking at me like he wanted to kiss me again. Goddamn Burke.

  Burke. I’d kissed Burke. Shit.

  I sank down onto the stool, all the adrenaline draining out of me at once, defeat hot on its heels. “Don’t do this, okay?”

  His playful expression fell instantly. “Hey, whoa, what’s wrong? I’m sorry. I was only messing around. If I forced—”

  I held my hand up, halting him. “You didn’t force anything. You’re right. I kissed you back. But I can’t do this.”

  “Do what, Gretch?” he asked, his gaze softening.

  “Kiss. Let you look at me like you want me in your bed. I can’t—I need these lines.” I pushed my hair behind my ears, that old familiar melancholy moving through me like a choking fog. “I know we keep it light and flirt sometimes, but you’re my closest friend. If we crossed that line and messed things up…if I didn’t have you—”

  “Oh, cher.” He moved forward and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “I was just trying to come up with a way to make you feel better and prove that no one was watching. I screwed up. I’m sorry. Sometimes I act before I think.”

  I put my hand over his and gave him a little smile. “Sorry I shoved you.”

  “I’ll survive.”

  I swallowed past the anxiety that had welled up. “And you’ve improved, too. Not so sloppy of a tongue.”

  He laughed, the genuine sound breaking some of the tension. “Good to know. Miss Georgia said the same thing last week.”

  I batted his hand away and snorted. “I thought you tasted like peaches.”

  He touched the tip of my nose. “I could say something really dirty right now.”

  “Like you’ve ever held back before.”

  And just like that, the weirdness between us dissipated. This was Burke. A kiss to him was just a kiss. He doled them out rather indiscriminately. He’d only been trying to prove a point. We could move on from this.

  “Now stop trying to flirt with me and let me have my dessert.” Burke opened the fortune cookie he’d caught, and I grabbed one of the broken ones from the floor. He looked down at his fortune. “Hmm, profound.”

  “What’s it say?”

  “You first.”

  I pulled out the little slip of paper and tossed the cookie shards onto the counter. “News from afar will bring you a special visitor.”

  “Ooh, a special visitor,” Burke said in a singsongy voice. “Sounds like someone’s about to get her first period.”


  I snorted. “What’s yours say, smartass?”

  “In case of fire, keep calm, pay bill, and run.”

  We laughed at that one, and thankfully, the rest of dinner passed without anymore serious talk. I helped him clean up, polished off another beer, and then headed to my room. By the time I took a bath and crawled into bed, I felt hopeful that I could actually relax and grab some sleep.

  But after an hour of tossing and turning, I was still wide awake, staring at the ceiling fan go round and round. Goddammit. Nightly torture, we meet again.

  A creak sounded from the other side of the room and the door opened a fraction. I froze. But then Burke poked his head in, checking on me like some damn den mother. I shut my eyes and tried to appear like I was sleeping.

  “You’re a terrible faker, cher,” he said from the doorway.

  “Shut up. I’m asleep.”

  He made some sort of man grunt and stepped inside, a shaft of light from the hallway angling across the floor. “You decent?”

  “Depends who you ask. But I’m dressed.”

  He shut the door and walked to the side of the bed. He’d changed since I’d seen him last, the polo and slacks replaced by track pants and a purple Geaux Tigers T-shirt. Somehow he seemed even broader in the loose clothes, that well-honed body shifting beneath them. “Scoot over.”

  “Why?”

  “I promised you a bedtime story and, obviously, you’re waiting with bated breath to hear it.”

  “So you’ve come to bore me to sleep?” I shifted on the bed to make room.

  “Exactly.” He stretched out next to me like we were both lying on the grass under a starry night but managed not to touch me. Boundaries. Good. “Now close your eyes. You’ll want to picture this one.”

  My lids fell shut. “Don’t tell me about Miss Georgia.”

  He laughed softly, and in the dark, it was such an intimate sound that I found myself holding my breath. The last time I lay in bed with someone, it had been that final night with Harris. But there’d been no laughter that night. No quiet talks. He’d come home late after a business meeting, reeking of whiskey. I’d been half asleep already and annoyed that he hadn’t called me. He’d kissed me on the forehead, and I’d mumbled good night. Maybe if I’d reached out…