Ghost for Sale (2 page)

My heart gave a hard thump. “Who’s there?” I scrubbed droplets out of my eyes but couldn’t see anything.

The sky clouded and turned overcast as the wind cooled and picked up, causing the water to ripple. Goose bumps rose on my arms and legs that had nothing to do with the weather. The shadow swayed back and forth in rhythm with the wind, beginning to take shape.

My insides turned to ice, my breath coming in short, sharp pants.

The next moment, a shimmery silhouette of a man lay across the water.

With more speed than grace, I sprinted for the opposite side of the pool. Water churned as I kicked out. As soon as I reached the ladder, I grasped it and whipped around. “Who’s there?” I squeaked again. Only silence. The shadow, or whatever, was gone. The only scent the evening breeze carried was chlorine.

My muscles bunched and jumped as I pulled myself out of the pool. Pressure building in my head, I grabbed a thick white towel, wrapped it around me, and raced into the bungalow just as the phone rang. My feet wet, I slipped and slid across the tile floor as I hurried to answer it. “Hello?”

“Caitlin, how are you?” Laughing voices and music sounded in the background.

“Clayton?” Surprise jolted me.

“Yeah, I’m back. I was going to surprise you. Thought you’d be at Richie’s. Want me to come over?”

“I’d love for you to,” I responded with more enthusiasm than poor Clayton usually received from me.

“I’m on my way.” He clicked off.

“Hurry,” I muttered to the silent phone.

I looked furtively around as I raced to the bedroom to change clothes. I didn’t know what I was worrying about. We had an excellent alarm system. Nonetheless, I locked myself in the bedroom and dressed in record time. I peeked out the door. Reassured no one was there, I skulked into the hallway and waited for Clayton. When the buzzer sounded, I opened the door and threw myself into his arms.

His eyebrows rose, his body went rigid, and his face registered stunned surprise…for about five seconds. “This is more like it.” He kissed me enthusiastically, his hands busy as little bees.

I drew back. “I’m sorry, Clayton. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.” Clayton and I went out occasionally, but we weren’t an item.

He took a deep inhale and got his breathing under control. His arms dropped from my shoulders. “For a moment there, I thought absence may have made your heart grow fonder, since we haven’t seen each other in a few weeks.”

Heat crept into my cheeks. “I’m aware our relationship has never progressed to its natural conclusion. You’ve pointed it out repeatedly.”

“Then what’s the problem? You’re uh not…” He shifted on his feet.

“No, Clayton, I’m not gay. I’m convinced half my appeal for you—besides being your boss’s niece—is the challenge.”

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts and rocked back on his heels. “You know that’s not true. Never mind, baby. I know that kind of talk makes you nervous. I just thought for a moment there…”

“When I threw myself into your arms?” I added helpfully.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He grinned. At least the boy had a sense of humor...sort of.

“I am glad to see you.” I’d be glad to see anybody right now
.
I tugged his hand out of his pocket and tried to lead him into the living room. “Tell me about your trip.”

“Cut the crap, Cat. Why did you throw yourself at me?” Face set in stubborn lines, he pulled his hand back.

“Well, I was glad to see you.” I nodded my head for emphasis.

“And?” He arched an eyebrow.

“It’s impossible to wear down a banker-in-training,” I groused. “Once focused, you’re sharp as steel and about as malleable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Now what’s going on?”

“I thought there was an intruder when I was at the pool.”

He straightened, all signs of the lazy playboy gone in an instant. “Why didn’t you say so? Did you call the police?”

“And tell them what? A shadow fell across the pool, but no one was there?”

He gave me a strange look. “Is the alarm system on?”

“Yes.”

“You stay here. I’m going to take a look outside.”

“Thanks, Clayton.” Relief swamped me.

“Stay here.” He snapped the words out again.

“I’m coming with you.” But I was already talking to his back.

I ran to the bedroom. He might have been conservative—okay he was conservative; he was going into the banking business. And he might not have attracted me at the basic level. But he was a good guy to have in my corner when the chips were down. He was no coward.

I rummaged in my dresser drawer for the Taser dad had given me when I moved out, grabbed it, and then ran through the house and out the back door in hot pursuit. When Clayton stopped abruptly, I ran full tilt into his warm solid back and nearly tased my foot. “Ouch.” I rubbed my nose.

“Don’t you ever do what you’re told?” He eased me to his side, then cautiously walked the enclosure. The gray clouds had lifted. The sun dropped in the sky in a bright red orb that threw garnet sparkles on the water. A few early stars began to make their appearance. The scent of chlorine mixed with Clayton’s expensive aftershave. I relaxed. No limes and cinnamon. The presence was gone.

We circled the pool and then the house. “I don’t see anyone.” Clayton took one last look around.

“Maybe it was my imagination.” Not.

“In this case, I hope so.” He glanced at his watch.

I could take a hint. “Why don’t you go back to the party?”

“I’ll stay for a little while.”

“Really, I’m okay.” Pricks of discomfort tightened my chest. I was so not okay.

“Tell you what. I’ll take one more look around, then check the house before I go.”

“Deal.” My taut muscles loosened. While he checked the property, I grabbed a soda. He walked in as I popped the top. “Want one?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I’ll just do a quick check of the rooms.”

I swallowed a giggle. Clayton might not be getting lucky with me, but I had a feeling the evening wasn’t going to be a wash for him. He went through the bungalow in record time.

He came into the kitchen and pecked me on the cheek. “I’ll call you soon.” He stopped me before I could trail after him. “I can see myself out.”

“Sure.” He didn’t sprint for the door, but he disappeared through it pretty fast. I’d bruised his ego. Again. “I’m going to stop dating altogether.” I’d never met a guy who melted me like molten lava, and I didn’t intend to settle for less. “I’m a freak.”

“That’s the damn silliest thing I’ve ever heard.”

The scent of tart limes and cinnamon assailed me. I opened my mouth to scream so loud Clayton would hear me a mile away, which he probably was by now. Nothing came out but a dry croak.

The apparition stood in my kitchen as if he belonged there, tall, his coal black hair with a tint of blue sheen to it. He looked at me from stormy gray eyes that had a trace of devilment in them, partly hidden by bewilderment. The black suit jacket he wore came nearly to his knees. Beneath it, a beautiful silk, cream-colored vest covered a white shirt with a stiff standup collar.

“You can see me?” His storm-flecked eyes widened.

“Wh...” The spit dried in my mouth. I swallowed and tried again. “Who are you?” It came out a croak, but it came out.

“Your roommate’s ghost.” He grinned.

My knees buckled. Rear hit wood with a thump as I sat down on a kitchen chair. “Umm.” I rubbed my posterior.

“I can’t believe you can see me,” he marveled.

“Yeah, me either.” My heart banged in my ears. My clammy hands trembled. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?”

“Liam O’Reilly. And you are Caitlin?”

“Yes.” I tried to get my breath under control before I hyperventilated. “What are you doing here?” I gripped the table and scooted my chair under it, so that the table rested between us. The muscles in my neck rigid, I concentrated on the pristine white ruffled curtains that framed the window and counted to ten before I glanced back. He was still there.

The ghost looked around the room and appeared as bemused as I. He glanced at my top, then quickly averted his gaze. I’d thrown on a black, cross-front bra tank-top over tan shorts. I watched in fascination as red stained his throat. It flooded his face and replaced the translucent honey-colored tan. His old-fashioned attire made my outfit look skimpy. I cleared my throat. “Um, what year are you from?”

“I died in October of 1866 in Ruby Falls, Virginia.”

That accounted for the clothes.

“Now if I might ask you, what year is it?” He took a restless turn around the room.

“2015.”

“Sweet Jesus,” he breathed. “I beg your pardon.”

“For what?” My brain, like my legs, had gone weak.

“For blaspheming.” He rocked on his heels and added under his breath, “Just my luck I’d end up in a high-toned brothel after my death.” He shook his head, his glance regretful.

Brothel? “Excuse me?”

“Isn’t this a brothel?” He waved his hand around to encompass the room. “Of course, I’ve never been in the kitchen of a bordello, but I imagine they have them. This is the kitchen, isn’t it?” He looked at the shiny stove, the spotless counters, and the black and white ceramic floor.

“Yes, it is. Why would you call this a brothel?” My knees unlocked, and I sagged deeper into my chair, more fascinated than frightened, everything surreal. I couldn’t possibly be carrying on a conversation with a ghost. No doubt, I was in the middle of a dream, but I’d hate to see it end. Marcy’s ghost intrigued me. For a man well over a hundred years old, he was a major hottie. The HDM paled in comparison.

“Well, you don’t object to my language, you wear next to nothing, and you were in a very torrid embrace with that man who visited you a little while ago. Though to be fair, you did turn him down, and no coin changed hands.”

No coin changed hands. Good one. “Times have changed.” If this was a dream, it was the best one I’d had in ages, if I didn’t count the sex dreams.

“Then I shouldn’t be addressing you so informally, Miss…?” He arched an eyebrow, waiting.

“King. But Caitlin is just fine.”

“Miss King.” He gave an abbreviated bow. “I must say, your outfits are scantier than any bordello I’ve been to.”

“And have you been to many bordellos, Liam? Or should I say, Mr. O’Reilly?” My insides warmed. I shifted toward the ghost, gave him a long look and my best sultry smile. Good Lord. Was I flirting with Marcy’s ghost? Yes, it appeared I was.

“I’m nineteen, a man full grown. Of course I’ve been to brothels. But whatever era I’m in, this isn’t a fit topic to discuss with a lady.” Once again, his gaze drifted over my attire, or at least what he could see of it from across the table, his expression dubious.

“You’re having a problem with my outfit, aren’t you?”

“No problem at all. I like it very much.” His lips tipped upward. His gray eyes sparkled like the sun on the ocean.

“You just don’t think a lady would wear it.” My throat tickled, and the muscles in my mouth twitched.

“Not in my time.” He gave an apologetic shrug. “Though now I think of it, a grown man wouldn’t go outdoors in short pants either.”

That one took me a moment. I remembered the khaki short’s Clayton was wearing and burst out laughing. “What a dream.” I didn’t realize I’d spoken out loud until he nodded.

“I feel the same way. Do you mind if I sit down?”

“Be my guest.” I motioned to the chair across the table. It glided smoothly out from the table, and Liam drifted into it.

“Caitlin, who are you talking to?”

I jumped. Liam hopped out of the chair and stared at me wildly. Then he turned and bowed to Marcy. “Good evening.”

“You must not have heard me come in.” She walked to the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water, and looked around. “You’re talking to yourself again, aren’t you?”

“Don’t you…” My brain turned to mush. I flapped my arm wildly in Liam’s direction.

Marcy stared at my flailing arm in bewilderment. Liam looked back and forth between us, lifted his palms, and raised his eyebrows.

I regained my voice and my cognitive powers. I was having a breakdown. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Clayton claimed you thought you saw an intruder. I came home to check on you.” She pulled out the chair Liam had vacated and plopped down.

“That was sweet of you.”

“He shouldn’t have left you alone. You need to find someone else. He slipped out the door with that Hathaway slut.” She screwed up her nose as if she’d smelled something distasteful.

“We aren’t an item.”

Liam stood with his arms crossed, his face unreadable.

What was he thinking?

“Why do you keep staring over my shoulder?” Marcy twisted to look behind her before she shifted back toward me.

“Sorry.”

“So why did you think someone was in the house?” She set down the bottle and leaned toward me.

“Must have been all that talk of ghosts.” I bit my lips together to hold back the hysterical giggle lodged in my throat.

Marcy looked around, then whispered. “Do you think it was the ghost?”

My nerves jumped. For the life of me, I couldn’t think of anything to say or why I was so hesitant to tell her the truth. She would have believed me. “Who knows,” was all I could manage.

Liam looked relieved. Then his eyes crossed as Marcy’s breasts lifted when she stretched her arms over her head. She glanced at her watch. “It’s barely nine o’clock. Let’s go to Jimmy’s.”

I looked at my ghost…er, Marcy’s ghost. Would Liam O’Reilly be able to go? I couldn’t wait to see his reaction to Jimmy’s. “Sure, why not.”

Marcy did a quick glance at my shorts and tank top. “Better throw on some jeans. The temp has dropped.”

“Good idea. I’m going to do that now.”

When I reached the bedroom, I unsnapped my shorts, thought better of it, and spun around. Sure enough, Liam leaned against the wall, his ankles and arms crossed. “Get out! I’m getting ready to change clothes. And don’t go in Marcy’s room either.”

He grinned and gave me an appreciative once-over before he disappeared through the wall. Not so much as a ripple marred the smooth surface where he’d just vanished.