Ivan, Melody, and Lucy simultaneously turned to look out the big bay window.

“There isn’t any more foliage,” Lucy said. “Peak color was last week, and the storm blew all the leaves off the trees.”

“Are you sure?” Stephanie had been so busy trying not to think about Ivan that she hadn’t had time to think about anything else. She went to the window to take a better look. They were right.

“Well, it’s too late now. They’re on their way. Besides, it isn’t as if we don’t have any foliage. It’s just that the foliage is on the ground, right?” she rationalized. She started to clear the table. “While we’ve got guests in the house, I’d like everyone to look nice for dinner. Melody, I know this is going to cramp your style, but I’d like your hair to be all one color. And please don’t play your electric guitar on the widow’s walk. And don’t tell them about the pork chops and the pigs’ legs getting broken.”

Ivan collected plates and followed Stephanie into the kitchen. “Any instructions for me?”

Stephanie gave him a slow, considering look. She had a list of instructions a mile long, and they didn’t have anything to do with the guests. They had to do with amorous kisses and sensuous fondlings and the fact that she wasn’t getting any. Ivan Rasmussen flirted with her. He watched her every move. And his body language was friendly, very friendly. But he was definitely avoiding a more intimate relationship.

She took the dishes from Ivan and put them in the dishwasher. “No instructions,” she said, “but I have a problem with the closet door in my bedroom. It’s locked, and I haven’t got a key.”

Ivan looked puzzled. “How did it get locked? Those closet doors haven’t been locked for a hundred years. Nobody has a key.”

“Well, somebody has one. I’m telling you, my door is locked.”

Ivan took a cookie from the cookie jar. “Let’s go take a look at it.”

They climbed the wide spiral stairs leading to the second floor and traveled the short hallway, which was now carpeted with a burgundy-and-beige Oriental runner. Stephanie had chosen the smallest of the guest rooms for herself. Melody was living in the maids’ quarters in the attic, under the cupola. Lucy and Ivan occupied two other rooms. That left the master bedroom and two adjoining rooms for guests.

Ivan looked in at the master bedroom. “You weren’t planning on putting Mr. and Mrs. Platz in there, were you?”

“As a matter of fact, I was. It’s our nicest room.”

“Aunt Tess isn’t going to like having strangers sleeping in her bedroom.”

“And I suppose Aunt Tess would prefer to have you in the master bedroom?”

“Absolutely. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Melody.”

“Melody’s credibility is a little shaky in the ghost department. Yesterday she told me Tess wanted chocolate chip cookies.”

Ivan stopped in the middle of Stephanie’s room, looked at the closed closet door, and looped his arms around Stephanie’s waist. “You know what I think? I think you just want me in your bedroom.”

Stephanie flinched. That hit home. It hadn’t been her motive for bringing him upstairs, but there was enough truth to it to make her uncomfortable. She was becoming more attracted to him with each passing day. And he loved making her uncomfortable, she thought grimly. Rather than ignoring the fact that he’d spurned her advances on board the Savage, he continually teased her. The man had a diabolical sense of humor.

Justice really should be served, she decided. Ivan Rasmussen deserved to sweat a little. And all she had to do was turn up the heat. She leaned back in his arms and looked at him. “You’re right. I want you in my bedroom. What are you going to do about it?”

There was a flicker of surprise, then his grin widened. “I don’t know. Suppose I don’t do anything?”

Stephanie moved closer. “Do it my way, or hit the highway, big guy.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You bet. I was at the top of my class in police brutality and sexual harassment. I know how to do things to a man’s body that would make your hair stand on end.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

“I wasn’t talking dirty!” She punched him lightly in the chest. “This isn’t working, is it? Why aren’t you getting nervous? You always throw me off-balance. Why can’t I get you off- balance?”

His eyes grew serious. “I’m always off-balance. I just hide it better.”

“Really?” She wasn’t sure if she believed him. Pirates were known to fabricate every now and then.

Ivan noted the skepticism in her voice. She held the winning hand and didn’t even know it, he thought. He was in way over his head and sinking fast.

He had his arms around her, and she felt pliant and relaxed now that she was teasing him back. It’d be easy to kiss her, he thought. Her lips were parted in silent laughter and looked soft and inviting. Too tempting to resist. His hand trailed along her neck and the slope of her shoulder, and his mouth took hers

Stephanie had expected to be kissed, but she hadn’t counted on this sort of kiss. She’d expected the kiss to be impudent, like the bathroom kiss two days ago. The bathroom kiss had been a pirate’s kiss-infuriating but fun. Exactly what you’d expect from a charming rat. The kiss they were sharing now was fragile. It was a serious kiss, more demanding in an entirely new way-and much more confusing. Stephanie pulled away and looked into Ivan’s eyes, not sure of what she saw there.

Pay attention, Stephanie, Ivan thought. This is love. He kissed her again, pulling her in deeper, persuading her to respond to him. “Are you still off-balance?” he asked.

“More than ever.”

“Good. I hate being the only one who feels insecure and desperate.”

Ivan Rasmussen? Insecure? And then it hit her. He wasn’t going so slowly because he wasn’t interested in her. He was going slowly because he cared about her. Really cared. He didn’t want to rush things. Didn’t want to lessen their relationship by pressing the physical aspect of it. A smile surfaced.

“I think I’ve been dumb,” Stephanie said. “You like me, don’t you?”

Like her? Ivan groaned. She was his reason for getting up in the morning. She was the sun, and he felt himself revolving around her, held tight by some mysterious, overwhelming force that was much more inescapable than mere gravity. “Yeah. I like you.” His voice was husky. “I like you a lot.”

“I like you, too,” Stephanie said. She ran the flat of her palm across his chest, enjoying the feel of hard muscle and warm flesh beneath his shirt. Her fingertip stroked up the side of his neck and along the line of his bearded jaw. She wasn’t sure of his ultimate intentions, but she knew he’d shown her a part of himself that was very private. And she knew from the pressure against his zipper that the intimate web he’d woven around them was fueling more aggressive desires in him. He was a pirate after all, she thought happily. And he was making love to her, seducing her slowly and thoroughly.

“This is special, isn’t it?” she asked, winding her arms around his neck and sensuously brushing her lips across his. She felt his hand tighten at the small of her back, felt him stir when she pressed her hips forward.

She was taunting him, Ivan thought. She finally recognized her power. She was making him burn with each erotic movement of her body. She was telling him that she wanted him. And Lord knew, he wanted her.

“I’m probably making a mistake by not locking the bedroom door right now,” he said, “but I think we should put this on hold. I don’t want to make love to you, then discover Lucy and Melody have been listening on the other side of the door.”

“Speaking of doors-the closet is definitely locked.”

Ivan turned and tugged, but the door wouldn’t open. “Wait here. There’s a big old skeleton key in the master bedroom that might work.”

He returned a couple of moments later, tried the key, and gave Stephanie a wink when the lock tumbled. He swung the door open with a flourish, and a cadaver fell out, crashing onto the floor at Stephanie’s feet.

Stephanie made a strangled sound and clamped her hand over her mouth.

Ivan hung on to the door and took a deep breath to steady his heart. “Jeez!”

Both took a step back from the body.

“This guy’s been embalmed!” Ivan said. “He’s wearing makeup.”

“Looks to be in his seventies,” Stephanie said.

“This is sick. This is really sick!”

Stephanie reached out for Ivan with a shaky hand. “You know what’s even sicker? Me. I hate to be a wimp about this, but I think I’m going to throw up. Yes, I’m definitely going to throw up,” she said, rushing to the bathroom.

Five minutes later, she was seated on the tile floor, resting her back against the tub with a wet towel draped over her head.

Ivan massaged her shoulders. “You feel better?”

Stephanie nodded. “This is embarrassing.”

“I thought cops got used to seeing stiffs.”

“I was in narcotics, not homicide, and believe it or not, I’ve never had a dead person fall out of a closet at me.”

“I hope you’re not going to blame this on Aunt Tess.”

“Ivan, your house is a loony bin.”

“Honey, this is your house.”

She removed the towel and pushed herself to her feet. “We should call the police. Some undertaker is going nuts looking for that poor old man.”

They walked down the hall to her bedroom and stopped at the door, not able to believe their eyes. The body was gone.

“Am I imagining this?” Stephanie asked. “Did I just throw up over a figment of my imagination?”

“I can guarantee you he didn’t walk away.”

“So someone took the dead guy. While I was in the bathroom, someone came in here and bodynapped him.”

They exchanged glances and knew they were both thinking the same thing. “Melody!” they called in unison.