Ghost for Sale (3 page)

This couldn’t be real. I’d just ordered a ghost out of my bedroom. I pulled my hair.
Ouch
. I was awake. And even though I had vivid dreams, I doubted if they included the scent of cinnamon and limes that lingered in the room.

I shook off my unease and threw on jeans and a pink tee, then shrugged into a pink and black plaid jacket and headed out to wait for Marcy. Wonder of wonders, she was ready.

We walked out, Liam at our side. When we got in the car, he balked. Unobtrusively as possible, I motioned for him to get in. He shook his head. As Marcy started the engine, I opened the door. “Just a minute. I forgot my debit card.”

“Okay.” She leaned forward and fiddled with the radio.

I jumped out of the car and jerked my head in the direction of the sidewalk. Liam followed me as I trotted back into the house.

“Where’s the buggy?” he demanded, his arms crossed, chin jutted.

I desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, to confirm I wasn’t hallucinating. Instead, I said as calmly as I could, “We don’t ride in buggies. We drive automobiles. Come on. It’ll be fun. You’re a guy. You’ll like it once you get used to it.”

I was trying to talk a ghost into a car. What was wrong with this picture?
I gave myself a mental head slap. On the other hand, on the off chance I was hallucinating, I might as well go ahead and enjoy myself.

“All right, all right,” he grumbled as we walked to the convertible. I got in the passenger side and slid into soft leather. Feet planted on the driveway, Liam glared at me. I made a motioning gesture with my hand.

“What are you doing?” Marcy twisted toward me, a puzzled frown on her face.

“Fanning myself. It’s not nearly as cool as you said it was.” I flapped my hand back and forth in front of my face.

“You’re acting strange tonight,” Marcy remarked as she fastened her seat belt.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“For one thing, the way you’ve been flapping your arms around like a deranged chicken. Never mind. Clayton has that effect.”

Liam hadn’t moved. I twitched my head to the left. Finally, he shrugged, put his hand on the side of the car, and leaped into the back seat of the convertible.

Marcy barreled out of the drive and tore down the lane.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God.” The words were a whisper on the wind.

I squelched a giggle, and Marcy threw me a perplexed look.

When her attention turned back to the road, I threw a quick glance at Liam. His jaw was clenched, and his fingers dug into the leather upholstery. He looked white as a ghost. The mental analogy hit me and I laughed.

“Did you break into Daddy’s liquor cabinet?” Marcy demanded. She cut me a look before she turned her attention back to traffic. A jeep drew alongside. The good-looking guy in the passenger seat winked at Marcy before the sport utility vehicle zipped around and cut in front of her. For a moment, she lost her train of thought, but not for long. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Did you bribe Lulu to bring you a bottle of Daddy’s finest?”

“No! I haven’t touched a drop. I haven’t broken into Uncle Leon’s liquor cabinet. And I haven’t coerced Lulu to do so either.” I huffed and flopped back against the seat.

Lulu was my aunt and uncle’s long suffering, but well-paid, housekeeper who now had the extra duty of cleaning up after us. Marcy’s parents had allowed us to move into their guesthouse until college started in the fall. No way would I screw up that arrangement by taking further advantage of their generosity.

“Hope you haven’t been smoking anything. Mommy and Daddy would have a cow.” Marcy pulled up to the stoplight and waited for the light to turn green.

“You know I never use drugs You’ve said yourself I’m so straight arrow I’m boring.”

“No, what I said was it wouldn’t hurt you to loosen up occasionally.”

Heat burned my cheeks. No way was I discussing this in front of a ghostly stranger
.
I lapsed into silence before pulling my compact out of my purse and angling it where I could see Liam. Our eyes met. A sizzle of attraction jolted me right down to my sandal-shod toes.

I leaned my head against the headrest and closed my eyes, breaking contact. The whole situation was bizarre. My cousin had bought a ghost off eBay, and I was attracted to him. Whether he was real or a figment of my imagination, I was drawn to him.

Then again, what red-blooded girl wouldn’t be? Even one who up to this point hadn’t been tempted to do the mattress-mambo with any guy.

His thick hair hung nearly to his shoulders. His cheeks were high-boned and his nose hawk-like. Perfectly kissable lips. Not too thick. Not too thin. Yummy.

Before I could continue my inventory, Marcy broke in on my thoughts. “We’re here.”

I opened my eyes. With typical VanLier luck, Marcy had found a parking spot right in front of Jimmy’s.

“I’d give my black and tan stilettos, and throw in my orange polka dot sandals if I could parallel park half as well as you do.” The nose of the Corvette was a mere six inches from the bumper of the car in front of us.

“It’s a gift.” She waved her hand in an airy gesture and opened the door. The rose-peach polish glistened in the lamplight.

“Don’t I know it.”

Liam leaped out of the car and opened my door. I hurriedly put my hand on the handle to make it look like I’d pushed it open. I might as well not have bothered. Marcy was already heading for the entrance. In the blink of an eye, Liam was in front of her and threw open the heavy wooden door.

I swallowed a groan.

She turned to me. “They must have installed automatic door openers since the last time I was here.”

“Must have,” I said to her. “Don’t,” I mouthed to Liam.

He shrugged. “I’m a gentleman.” As he held the door, someone came down the stairs from the tap room. He sniffed the air, and a look of rapture crossed his face. “Ale.”

I sidled up to him and whispered out of the corner of my mouth. “Jimmy’s is an Irish pub. Downstairs is for the under twenty-one crowd. Second floor, Jimmy serves ale and stronger beverages. Did you notice the separate entrances for the downstairs and upstairs?”

Liam nodded.

“Jimmy can sniff out a fake I.D. a mile away. By the way, can you drink or eat?”

“I don’t know. This is my first time around. But I don’t think so.” For a moment, his sensual lips drooped before he shook off the disappointment and smiled. My knees went weak. “You’ll just have to have a libation for both of us.”

“Not at Jimmy’s I won’t,” I mumbled in a low undertone.

He gave me a confused look. “Why not? And what is a fake I.D.?”

I slapped my forehead. “That’s right. There were no laws against drinking if you were underage in your time, were there?”

“Underage?”

“No one under twenty-one can legally drink, so most kids under twenty-one try to find a way around the law, hence the fake I.D.’s. Marcy and I tried to sneak into Jimmy’s once. Not only did we get busted, Jimmy called our parents. Just let me say, it isn’t one of my better memories. There’s nothing like disappointed parents to make you feel like pond scum. But even without alcohol, Jimmy’s is always hopping,” I said behind my hand.

“Did you say something, Cat?” Marcy called over her shoulder.

“I think there’s an open table up and over to our right,” I yelled back.

“Oh, yeah, I see it.”

We pushed our way through the crowd to the open table. Marcy sat across from me, and her ghost slid into the chair beside me. When three men and a woman walked on stage, the crowd broke into applause and whistled.

“GRIT’s playing,” I yelled to Marcy.

“Cool,” she hollered back.

The guitarist, wearing jeans that rode loose on his hips and a vest with no shirt under it, picked up his guitar, turned on the amp, and tuned up. Liam clapped his hands over his ears, a look of horrified fascination on his face. His gaze traveled from the band to the young women who stood in front of the stage. His eyes crossed when a buxom blonde in a tight, low tee with hip-hugging designer jeans turned in our direction.

“There’s Kendra.” Marcy pointed at the blonde. She waved and motioned her over.

Kendra pulled out the chair that Liam was sitting in. Uh-oh
.
She’d barely settled in when she shrieked and jumped up, rubbing her rear. “Someone pinched me!”

Marcy rolled her eyes. “Is there a full moon tonight? Caitlin’s been acting odd all evening and now you. The place is packed, but there’s no one within pinching distance.”

“I’m telling you someone pinched me.” Kendra rubbed her right cheek.

“She sat on me. What do you expect?” Liam shouted above the music.

Gentleman, huh?

“I’ll take a virgin wine fizz,” I told the waitress who’d stopped to take our order. Kendra and Marcy ordered the same.

As they chatted, I put on my rapt-attention face and let my thoughts wander. What was the matter with me? I’d been carrying on a conversation with a ghost as if it were an everyday occurrence. Why wasn’t I locked in my room, shaking like a leaf? Or having hysterics?

Maybe Liam was the imaginary friend I’d never had.

The waitress returned and handed us our drinks, effectively breaking my brooding. She gave the table a cursory swipe with a damp towel, then left. I took a sip.

“What are you drinking?” Liam looked at my glass wistfully.

Marcy and Kendra were still chatting. I put my hand over my face and mumbled in a low voice, “Basically, a non-alcoholic fruit fizzy.”

He looked down his nose. “A girl’s drink.”

“Guys like it too.” Just then, the band stopped playing and the noise went down a few decibels.

“What did you say?” Marcy asked.

“I said the coolers hit the spot.” I raised my glass. She raised hers and went back to chatting with Kendra.

“What do you think of Jimmy’s?” I asked after making sure my cousin and her friend were still occupied.

He tipped his chair back, cupped his hands behind his head, and studied his surroundings. “Fascinating. Times have certainly changed.”

I waited till the band started back up before I spoke behind my hand. “Thank goodness.”

“Amen.” He leered at a blonde in a low-cut plum top and tight Capris.

Men.

Liam winced as the guitar shrieked. “The music’s not exactly gentle or melodious. But it has heart,” he added fairly. GRIT segued into a slow number while the soloist, Belamy Joyce, a young woman with blue-spiked hair, crooned about her brokenhearted lover. Liam nodded. “Now that’s more like it.”

A young red-headed guy with a stocky body tapped me on the shoulder. He leaned forward, cupped his hands together, and shouted over the noise, “Care to dance?”

Liam didn’t wait for me to make up my mind. “Don’t feel you need to babysit me. I’m going to mingle.”
Poof
, he was gone.

Wow.
My breath stalled.

“Would you like to dance?” the guy repeated, throwing his voice to make it heard.

“I’d love to dance.” I preferred fast music, but if the band stayed true to form the slow song would be short. He waved a hand at his ear, signaling he couldn’t hear me.

“Never mind.” My chair scraped across the floor as I shoved it back.

We got to the floor just as the slow song ended. The drummer beat out a rhythm, and Belamy Joyce belted out a tune in a high shrill voice. The redhead shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “I’m Daniel,” he said as he began to dance.

“Caitlin.”

“Pleased to meet you, Caitlin,” he bellowed as he waved his arms around and stomped to the beat.

I did the same, occasionally bumping into one of the other dancers on the crowded floor. After six sweaty minutes, the music shifted to another slow song, and Daniel eased me into his arms where we swayed back and forth in silence, my hands on his shoulders, his wrapped around my waist.

His hands dipped till they rested on my butt, and his lips found my neck.
Crap!
My muscles grew taut. I put my hands on his chest to shove him away when his head popped backward and his hands flew up, then flopped to his side. Wild eyed, he looked all around.

Liam stood with his hands fisted on his hips, expression thunderous.

“Someone jerked my arms right off you.” Daniel’s hand shook as he ran his fingers through his hair. The red strands stood on end in crazy disarray.

“Really?” I pushed skepticism into my voice and left him. I wound my way through the sea of couples to the table. Daniel stood in the middle of the floor, his head swiveling back and forth as he stared around him. With a perplexed look, he shook his head and headed for the bar.

I plopped down in my seat and looked around. Marcy was dancing with a handsome black-haired boy, and Kendra snaked her way toward Daniel. “Good luck and good riddance.”

“Why did you let him touch you like that?” Liam glared as he towered over me.

My nerves were shot. No matter how natural it seemed talking to Liam, it wasn’t. He wasn’t human, in the flesh and blood sense of the word. I’d been conversing all evening with ectoplasm. And for him to question my morals? Me. Of all people. The only eighteen-year-old virgin left in Virginia.

“I don’t need any lectures from a ghost on moral behavior, and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” I shot back, before I noticed the girl at the next table staring at me. My teeth clicked together as I turned my back on Liam.

“Would you care to dance?”

My glance slid up worn, fitted jeans to a short-sleeved white shirt and a tan throat. It halted at an average-looking face with light blue eyes and thick chestnut hair that stood out in mild disarray.

He held out his hand, confident, his eyes filled with kindness. I slipped my hand in his, and he led me to the dance floor, drew me into his arms, and held me close, but not too close, actually moving in time to the music, not just swaying on his feet. “I’m Patrick.”

“Caitlin.” My throat was tight, my voice strained. Having a fight with a ghost will do that to you.

“I’ve seen you here before.”

My head jerked up, and I narrowed my eyes.

He laughed, a low easy sound. “I’m not a stalker. You’re just a very attractive woman. I’d have to be blind not to notice.” He smiled when he said it and gained points by not tightening his grip.