Nick enjoyed seeing the blush highlighting Abby's cheeks and hearing the catch in her throat as she sighed. She was so beautiful, even in the old-fashioned getup she wore. But lately when he looked at her, he didn't see her clothes anymore. He saw a bright, sensitive, and caring woman. Since she'd been dead all these years, he expected her to be gloomy, so her upbeat sense of humor surprised him.

Now he noticed a different expression cross her face. Narrowed eyes studied the picture on the web page, tight lines creasing her forehead and pulling at her lips. He glanced at the monitor to see what had caught her attention. Another article in an old newspaper was displayed, this time of a young woman standing in front of Abby's father's building.

"That is her!" She pointed at the woman.

"Her who?"

"Your lady friend, Vanessa. I told you I had seen her before. That is the woman in my mind. I remember seeing her in this building back then."

Nick clicked on the picture and zoomed in. The young woman's face came into view, and the likeness to Vanessa was remarkable. "What's the year on this article?" he muttered as he scanned the page.

"It says 1917."

"Five years after your death."

"Yes."

He leaned closer to read. In the article, Cassandra Brown announced the opening of her jewelry store, Cassie's Gems.

"How do you know Cassandra Brown?" he asked.

"I don't know her, but I have seen her before—in my time. The article says she owned a jewelry store, and this building was once a jewelry store." Abby glanced at him. "She does resemble your lady friend, don't you think?"

The likeness was uncanny. It was as if Vanessa had stepped back in time. The woman in the article looked about Vanessa's age of twenty-four, or perhaps a little younger. If Vanessa squeezed into one of those high-neck, long-sleeved, puffy-shoulder gowns, wrapped her hair in a bun, and wore a wide, feathered hat, she would look just like the woman in the picture.

"She's a spitting image of Vanessa."

"Do you think they are related?" Abby looked back over her shoulder at Nick. "I mean, Vanessa's father owns the building now, and it appears from this article that Cassandra Brown owned it in 1917."

Nick nodded. "It's very possible. There's only one way to find out." He breathed an irritated sigh. "But that would mean taking Vanessa out to dinner so I could ask her questions."

Abby frowned. "I suppose you have to do it, even as horrible as the idea sounds."

Chuckling, he shook his head. "You don't know the half of it. She doesn't listen to me when I tell her I only want to be friends. She's nothing but lint stuck on static clothes. That's what it feels like when she clings to me." Nick looked down. "I hope that doesn't sound too rude."

Abby laughed and shook her head.

"Too bad you can't come with me." He grinned. "I enjoyed what you did to her the other evening when she wouldn't leave me alone."

Abby stared at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Whatever are you talking about?"

"Don't play coy with me, Miss Carlisle. I know Vanessa isn't that clumsy. You were the one who spilled the sauce on her dress, made her trip, and splashed water on her face."

"You knew it was me?"

"How could I not? Vanessa isn't like that at all. She prides herself on being very graceful."

Abby squirmed in her chair. "I don't know what came over me, but I could see how uncomfortable you were, and I didn't want her getting close to you like she'd been doing."

"Well, it worked. I thought you were reading my mind." He winked. "I owe you one."

She glanced down at her clenched hands. Nick had never met a woman so unsure of her beauty. Abby was completely innocent.

He reached in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cell phone. "I guess I'd better get it over with now."

He punched in Vanessa's number, hoping it would go straight to her voice mail. On the second ring, Vanessa's voice purred a greeting.

"Hi, Vanessa. It's me, Nick."

"Oh, hello," she snapped. "What do you want?"

"I owe you a dinner."

"You owe me more than that. My dress was ruined."

He rolled his eyes. "And I'm sorry, but I'd like to make it up with dinner if that's okay."

There was a pause at the other end, and Nick switched his gaze to Abby. As he stared deeply into her wide eyes, he almost forgot he was in the middle of a phone conversation with another woman. Still, he couldn't take his eyes off Abby.

"Oh, all right," Vanessa answered. "I'll let you take me out and make it up to me."

"Thank you. How about tonight? Are you free?"

"Well, I did have other plans, but I'll cancel them to be with you."

What does she want from me—to kiss her feet in gratitude? Not this time. But he did feel badly about her dress, and he needed to ask her about her father's building. "Thanks. I appreciate that. I'll pick you up at seven."

Vanessa gave him her new address and he jotted it on the pad of paper in front of him. After he hung up, he met Abby's gaze again.

"Are you sure you can't leave the building and come with me tonight?" he asked.

She laughed and shook her head. "I'm sorry. You're on your own."

"It won't be fun without you." After seeing Vanessa trip on her heels, spill sauce on her dress, and drench her face with water, Nick knew it would be an adventure to have Abby with them at dinner. Hopefully, he'd be able to leave quickly after getting the pertinent information, and he already looked forward to reporting the news to Abby.

* * * *

This isn't a date, Nick repeated to himself. A date was when he took a woman out, had a great time, and didn't leave until morning. Well, that was the old Nick's idea of a date. The new Nick's strategy would be getting through the evening without having to kiss Vanessa.

He released a heavy sigh as he walked to her townhouse. In the past, she had been a hard woman to resist. So far, he'd done a great job of avoiding temptation since coming back to Sacramento. If she had a clue as to how important information about Cassandra Brown was to him, Vanessa would have him on his knees begging like a dog for a bone.

That couldn't happen. As much as he wanted to know about the woman in the newspaper article from 1917, giving in to Vanessa wasn't the way to get it.

Determined to be more professional than charming, he'd put on a gray suit and white shirt. If Vanessa was anything like he remembered from their past, she'd want to go somewhere that showed off her new dress and jewels—and the token man on her arm.

He buzzed her front door, and within seconds she stood in front of him. Just as he'd expected, she wore a dress meant to weaken a man's control. Red, glittery silk clung to her body and brushed the floor, displaying one bare shoulder and featuring a slit up the side that showed most of her thigh. Her hair was piled on top of her head in curls, with little wisps around her ears and neck.

Nick gave her his best smile. "You look great tonight, Vanessa. Did I interrupt something important?"

She pouted, a look he'd become familiar with. "Don't be silly, Nicky. I'm dressed like this for you."

Silently, he groaned. "So, I assume you're ready to go?"

She hooked her arm through his elbow, but instead of leaving her apartment, she pulled him inside. "Would you like a drink?"

"We're not going to get one at the restaurant?"

She laughed. "What restaurant? I'd planned on having dinner here."

That wasn't something Nick had expected. "Are you kidding? Dressed like that? Why would you want to stay inside?"

She slithered up beside him and cuddled against his arm. "Because we haven't seen each other in a long time and we need to catch up."

Nick knew he was in trouble. He'd have to spend the entire evening struggling to get away from her. "If you say so, but I'll have to call and cancel our reservations." He broke away and walked into her apartment. "Do you have a phone book? Oh, never mind. I'll just call information."

As he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and started punching in the number, he glanced around her apartment. Vanessa loved to flaunt her wealth, and everything in the front room was expensive and flashy.

She quickly took away his phone. "No need to do that. Maybe we'll go there later." She hung up the call, and then placed the phone back in his hands.

He slid the phone in his pocket. "How about that drink? My throat is suddenly dry."

"What would you like? Your favorite, bourbon?"

"I don't drink alcohol anymore. Do you have bottled water?"

"What?" Her eyes grew wide. "You don't drink alcohol?"

"Haven't for a few years."

"Why?" she whined. "You've changed too much, Nicky. I'm not sure I like this new man." She marched to her kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. "You're not fun anymore."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I've learned many lessons over the past few years. I didn't like the man who partied for a living."

She walked toward him with a bottle of water in her hand. "Was it because of that scandal with the movie producer's wife?"

He took the water from her and sat on the sofa. "That was the final blow, yes. But it started way before then. By the time I was sharing the front page of the tabloids with Leslie Blake, I realized what a shambles I'd made of my life. Living the wild life didn't make me happy. I regretted ruining my life that way, and I promised myself to try each and every day to be a good, upstanding person. I want to be taken seriously as a lawyer. I've cleaned up my life, Vanessa and that's the way my life is going to stay. Clean!"

She tucked her long legs under her as she curled on the sofa next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about Leslie Blake? I'm dying to know what happened between the two of you."

"Let's just say I wasn't thinking about my career like I should have been. I let her beauty—and her money—cloud my judgment. Of course, she made me believe she was in love with me." He shook his head. "I'll never do that again."

"So, now you're putting your career before women?"

"Yes—and my morals. I tried it the other way and it didn't work. The way I want to live my life now will be so much better. I'm going to devote myself to my cases and my clients. They deserve that." He casually pushed her off him as he shifted and faced her. "Which moves us to the next subject. My cases."

She scrunched her forehead. "What do you mean?"

"I want to tell you about a case I'm working on. In doing some research, I ran across a woman from the early 1900s." He chuckled. "I swear, Nessa, the woman looks just like you. She appeared to be about your age when she bought the building."

"What building?"

"Your father's. Of course, back then it wasn't your father's, but it's the same, nonetheless."

She sat up straighter and folded her arms. "Are you trying to tell me a woman who resembles me owned the building in the early 1900s?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying. Her name was Cassandra Brown. By chance, do you happen to know who this woman is?"

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "How would I know anyone who was alive back in that time?"

Under his breath, Nick counted to ten. Slowly. He'd forgotten Vanessa had to have things explained—or drawn on a piece of paper—so she didn't have to use her head. "I wondered if she was a distant relative of yours."

Vanessa's gaze narrowed during the lengthy pause. Nick knew not to disturb Vanessa while she was trying to think, so he waited and hoped she would know the woman.

Soon, her eyes widened and she smiled. "I don't know anyone named Cassandra Brown, but my great-grandmother was named Cassandra Westland. My father told me once that I look a lot like her."

His heart lifted. "Are you kidding me?"

"No. She owned the building before her son took over. Then the oldest son took charge, and after that until it fell into my father's hands." She touched Nick's arm. "And you're not going to believe this, but she's still alive."

"What?" Nick almost jumped off the sofa in his excitement. "She's still alive? Why, she's got to be at least one hundred years old."

Vanessa nodded. "She'll be one hundred and eighteen this year."

"That's amazing! I don't think I've heard of anyone that old."

"It's hard to believe. She swears she's only ninety, but her birth certificate proves her age."

"Do you think I could meet her? Will she talk to me? I wonder if she'll remember anything about when she bought the building."

Vanessa shrugged. "I couldn't tell you that, but if you want, I could arrange a meeting. She's in a nursing home and only family members are allowed to see her."

"Would you do that for me?"

"Of course." She leaned against him and batted her eyes. "You know I'd do anything for you."

Good grief. And to think I used to date women like her. Back then he didn't care if his girlfriend had a brain. Thank heavens he wasn't the same man today.

He looked into her eyes and forced a smile. "So, you said we're having dinner here? Have you ordered already, because I'm starving."

She gave him her evil eye and moved off the sofa. "I've changed my mind. Let's go out."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Great idea." No more cuddling tonight.

They didn't talk much on the way to the restaurant, but once they were seated, he took her hand from across the table and squeezed. "This is nice, don't you think?"

She arched a brow. "What's nice?"

"Two old friends getting together."

She pouted. "Why can't we be more than friends, Nicky? I'm currently single, and I know you are too."

He rubbed his thumb across her knuckle. "I want to get my practice running and make a good name for myself. I can't do that with a woman on my arm. A woman almost ruined me, remember? I won't let it happen again."

"I guess we can remain friends." She frowned. "Although, it won't be as much fun."

He chuckled. "But think of it this way. I will always be here if you need someone to talk to. If you meet a new guy and you want his background checked, I'm your man."

A grin stretched across her face. "Why do you make it sound exciting when I know it's not?"

"Because to me, it is exciting. I need friends right now, Vanessa, not a girlfriend."

After the waiter took their orders, Vanessa's attention moved around the room until she found someone to wave at. At least she'd gotten the point he was trying to make tonight.

"So tell me, Vanessa, has your family always been in the jewelry business?"

She sipped her wine and watched him. When she set the glass down, she nodded. "Yes, I think they have. Why do you ask?"

"Did you know that in 1912 the building belonged to Edward Carlisle and he used it for his newspaper business? He was a very wealthy man back then."

"No, I didn't know that. I wonder why he sold it to my great-grandmother."

"According to the articles I've read on the Internet, when Edward Carlisle died, his money fell into the wrong hands. Not too long after that, Cassandra Brown bought the building."

Nick had decided not to tell her about the brother, Alexander Carlisle, since that man's life was still a mystery.

"That's very interesting," Vanessa said. "I've always wondered how my great-grandmother came to own a jewelry company. I mean, back then women weren't business owners, and if they were, they weren't taken seriously."

"True. She was very young, too. At least she didn't look very old in the picture."

"Do you know if she was married to my great-grandfather then?"

Nick shrugged. "The article talked about Cassandra Brown, not Cassandra Westland. So I doubt she was married. Unless..." He tapped his fingers on the table. "Was she married to a Brown before she met your great-grandfather?"

"I don't know. In all the stories I've heard, nothing was mentioned about a previous husband."

"That makes the story even more amazing, doesn't it?" Nick said. "Mainly because she was single."

"Yes, it does."

Dinner passed quickly, and when Vanessa didn't try to hit on him, he thanked his lucky stars. While she rambled on about nothing, he kept going over in his mind everything they'd discussed about Cassandra Brown. Things didn't add up. She was a young girl, not even twenty yet, too young to buy a building in that day and age. And she was single, to boot. Unless her parents were filthy rich, where had she gotten the money to open a jewelry store?

Nick drove Vanessa home. When he walked her to the door, he hugged her. It surprised him when she didn't try to steal a kiss.

He couldn't wait to get back to Abby, so when he got in the car he punched the gas pedal harder than he should have. When he got to the building, he hurried up the stairs to his office and opened the door. "Abby?"

He turned on the light and waited for a few minutes, but his ghost friend didn't show up. She'd mentioned staying in the attic, and although he didn't know where that was, he was determined to find it.

He took the elevator to the top floor. The smaller hallway was dark, but he found the light and turned it on. He looked for an out-of-the-way door, different from the office doors, and finally found one at the end of the hallway by the window. He tested the knob, but it wouldn't budge.

Grumbling, he tried again, this time slamming his shoulder into it as he pushed. The door opened and he fell through, stumbling inside. The musty air tickled his nose and he sneezed. From inside a woman gasped, and something clattered to the hard floor.

He grinned. "Abby, it's me, Nick."

When she emerged from behind a stack of boxes, he wanted to rush to her, pick her up, and swing her around. He felt like an infatuated schoolboy, and he decided maybe it was a good thing she was a ghost.

Then he noticed the trembling frown on her lips and the tears in her eyes. He hurried to her. "What's wrong?"

"I found something."

"What?"

"Another newspaper article." She sniffed and wiped her swollen eyes. "The news is devastating. I still cannot believe it."

His chest clenched. "Show me the article."