Wanted: One Ghost (8 page)

James pointed to the advertisement of a young boy enjoying a soft-serve ice cream cone as they passed the small ice cream store inside the Super Mart. “What is that?”

“Ice cream,” April replied. She could eat ice cream any time of the year. “Frozen milk or cream, served in a crunchy, cake-like shell. Would you like to try one?”

She didn’t wait for his response but ordered two vanilla cones, plain, no sprinkles. She would let him elaborate once he tasted the treat as it was. She handed him his, wrapped in a paper napkin. He stared at it, unsure what to make of the creamy substance.

“Is there no utensil? How does one eat ice cream in a cone?”

“With your mouth, like this…let me show you.”

Taking her ice cream cone April licked around the base to catch the drips and continued up the creamy concoction until she formed a smooth point. Finishing, she wrapped her mouth around the tip of the vanilla cream and bit off the top with her lips. James sat on the bench, staring silently while his ice cream began to run in rivulets over his hand.

“Your ice cream is melting, James. You need to eat it quickly!” April laughed, unsure why he stared at her with such intent. But when his blue eyes darkened to the color of midnight sky and mimicked her earlier instructions—exaggerating every sip, lick and dip of his tongue against the smooth cream, and then licking any melted drips from the inside rim of the cone—she understood completely, and had never envied an ice cream cone more than she did right then. Her heart thudded in her chest and echoed its throbbing pulse lower in her body, sending thrilling arcs of heat coursing through her.

“I think I like ice cream…very much,” James whispered as he used a napkin to finish cleaning his fingers and lips. “I think you do, too, April Branford.”

James scowled at the clothes he dumped on the bed.
Gifts from a woman!
He should be grateful—he was alive. April gave him life again, a chance to redeem himself, to find the truth of his past. How many others in his situation ever received a second chance?

Still, having no job or possible source of income bothered him. He felt kept, like a mistress. He would need to find a job. Perhaps his mill was still in operation, he could work there. But how long was he here for, a day, a week, a fort night…forever?

No matter! A man needed a source of income to support himself and his lady. Was April his lady? She had money to pay for things. She had a job, a life of her own. But he would be damned if he would let her support him! He had to find income so he could pay her back. Living off of a woman was unheard of. His father would have boxed his ears at such a thought.

He stared at the items as if they offended him. He didn’t have much of a choice right now. The clothing would have to suffice, but he would pay April back as soon as he could.

Putting the clothes away in his bureau, James heard a soft knock. He crossed the room to open the door.

“Hi,” April said a bit nervously, holding a bag from the drug store.

Glittery gems outlined the word ‘Angel’ on her black shirt that matched long black pants dwarfing her slender figure. Her hair was still secured in the long rope but her face shone of freshly washed skin, making her green eyes even brighter without all the black eye kohl she normally wore to outline them. Yes, she was his
angel.
How else could he describe anyone with the ability to bring him to life?

“I wanted to bring you the rest of your stuff.”

She shifted from one foot to the other. James glanced down to see fluffy baby lambs on her feet. Here was this sexy, mysterious woman who held his life in her very capable hands—wearing sheep on her feet.

“They were a gift from my mother. They keep my feet warm,” she explained with a bit of annoyance in her voice as she looked up at him again.

“You’re adorable—like a kitten my sister Elsbeth used to have,” he said. April Branford appeared so soft and delicate, he wanted to cuddle her.

“Yes well, thank you.” She frowned, pushing a dangling curl behind her ear.

She should let her hair fall free so he could run his fingers through it, or wrap the damn braid around his fist as he took her against the wall. He felt his body tighten at the thought. No, now was not the time to be thinking these thoughts.

“I wanted to see if there might be anything you needed before I turned in for the night.”

You, Dr. Branford. I need you.

“Well, now that you mention it…” James couldn’t help but lead her on a bit. The way her pupils dilated and color raced to her cheeks he had no doubt she knew what he was thinking. The way she’d tempted him while they’d enjoyed their ice cream cones was an innocent gesture on her part, but it had left him hard and eager to have her mouth on him.

He knew she hadn’t realized what provocative thoughts the simple use of her tongue did to him, until he turned the tables on her. The excitement in her eyes and hitch in her breathing told him everything he needed to know. Would she taste as creamy and sweet?

“I would like water brought up for a bath in the morning. It’s been awhile.”

She cleared her throat, her fingers brushing a stray curl out of her face. Was embarrassment flushing her cheeks? “I forgot you’re not used to our modern facilities.” She stepped across his bedroom threshold before stopping and taking a step back. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” He ushered her in with a flourish of his hand.
Anytime, my dear
.

She led him to the door which opened into the wash closet. He had yet to explore the smaller room filled with odd contraptions. Looking around he wasn’t sure what to make of some of the items.

Once she explained in thorough detail how everything worked, much like the knobs and levers in the men’s room at the diner, James couldn’t wait to try out the ‘shower.’ The idea of warm water cascading over him—with the little vibrating thingy sounded wonderfully relaxing. He wished he’d thought of such a unique device especially after days of working in the fields.

She walked back to his bed and retrieved the bag she’d brought over as he reveled in the delight of the pulsing water hitting his hand. April removed a green bottle from the bag.

“This is shower gel. It’s like soap and you use it with this pouf.” She showed him a black netted ball on a string. “Here, smell. I love the scent of this brand. I use it sometimes, even though it’s more of a guy’s fragrance.”

She pulled out another bottle. “Here is a two-in-one shampoo and conditioner for your hair.” She placed the shower gel and shampoo on the wire shelf hanging from the shower head. “And here is your razor and shaving gel. The razor has three blades for close, comfortable shaving so there are fewer nicks and cuts. You use the foam to lather your face and then shave. I’m sure you know how to do that. It’s easier now, though.”

He took the razor from her fingers, admiring the design. James didn’t know what to make of all the wonderful items. This razor alone would have saved him so much trouble in his time.

‘There! You’re all set.” She paused and her cheeks turned pink. “By the way, these days, people tend to take showers on a daily basis.”

Daily?
He prided himself on always being clean. He’d always had someone heat a copper hip tub of water once a week for him. Not many of his time did. Some in his era found bathing a cumbersome event. He enjoyed a tub for many things—including indulging in a bit of ‘clean fun’ now and again for him and his current lady friend. But daily? Well, if it was the normal thing to do, he would have to fit in.

“I look forward to enjoying such luxuries. But I might need a bit of help. What shall I do for washing my back?”

April’s eyes lit with a knowing gleam. “I’m sure we could figure out a solution, if it becomes an issue.”

James drew a seductive smile. “I’m almost positive it
will
become an issue.”

The slow pull of her bottom lip between her teeth brought James’s smile up a bit. Dear God, she was actually considering his offer! His attention immediately went to peruse her body. Her nipples were prominent points against the linen of her top. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him, even though their banter was mostly in jest.

He pointed to her shirt. “Are you chilled?”

She looked down in confusion. Her eyes went round, her cheeks flushed with color. She quickly crossed her arms over her chest, and making a hasty retreat for her chambers, called ‘good night’ as she stormed across the open hallway. He had to laugh or take their mutual interest a step further.

Yes, James had noticed the vividly embossed points pressing outward from her shirt. If bantering with him caused April to become aroused, he wondered what the actual act of making love would do to her. He was beyond primed to show the good doctor how aroused he could make her.

***

He thought she was ‘adorable’ like a kitten! She didn’t want to be adorable, she wanted to be sexy! Studying herself in the full length mirror she realized ‘adorable’ was the most charming word he could probably have come up with. Sexy was not in her repertoire of characteristics, never had been really.

No, she was more the academic geeky girl. In her mind, she was still a pre-pubescent school girl at a slumber party from Hell. Hair pulled back in a severe braid, no make-up, a long, shapeless t-shirt top and lounge pants, with fuzzy lamb slippers. Nope, nothing sexy there. All she needed to complete the look was her braces from her teenage years.

Why did she even care what he thought of her? James Addison was the ghost of her research project. She might have brought him to life, but technically he was still a ghost. A man who was long since dead, whether he’d been executed or not. He would be what, two hundred and seventy by now? How could she find him even remotely attractive? Okay, so he didn’t look a day over thirty-three and with the stigma of being noted as a ladies’ man—she was curious. What made him so popular with the ladies of his time? Was it his charm, his smile? April bit her lip in deep thought. Or possibly something more unique?

Her interest was purely for research. It wasn’t every day a historian got up close and personal with their historical subject. What constituted a ‘ladies man’ back in his day? The stories of his ménage a trios with the tavern wenches were interesting but was he good at pleasing a woman or just a rumor of historical escapades? April’s face flamed at the thought of possibly finding out. Would she offer herself in the name of research to appease her curiosity?

You’re supposed to be professional! You aren’t a woman on the make. You have work to do, Dr. April Branford, and so far you have done a piss-poor job!

She needed to focus on her job if she was serious about her career. Ten years of school attested to her seriousness. Her connection to James Addison should be professional only. She shouldn’t care what he thought of her looks. She was only attracted to him because he spoke her language, history. His attraction was because she’d brought him to life. She was the only person, and a woman, who he’d been able to interact with in over two hundred years. If she wanted to work on impressing James Addison it needed to be strictly on a professional level. Besides, as a man, James Addison was way out of her league.

Getting into bed she reached over to turn off the bedside lamp.
Oh, hell! Who are you kidding, April?
She paused.
Sexy, huh?
Throwing back the covers she proceeded to wiggle out of her lounge pants and top, leaving her naked except for her panties. She felt uncomfortably naked. She was going a bit off the deep end. Putting her top back on, April left the lounge pants off. The whole ‘sexy’ thing would have to be gradual.

***

April stared around the darkened room, trying to let her pupils dilate enough to see. Why was she awake? The blue digital numbers on her travel alarm clock read 3:45 a.m. She hadn’t fallen asleep until nearly two-thirty since she couldn’t get James Addison out of her thoughts.

She’d even gotten up and sent an email to Kenneth Miles on her lack of progress. Technically her progress had exceeded her expectations, having been the only person in known history to have located James Addison’s remains. But she couldn’t brag. Telling Kenneth, James Addison led her to his own grave might have the man questioning her sanity.

He was arriving in a few weeks. Great! Would James still be around? What would Kenneth think if confronted with his two hundred seventy year old ancestor?

It would be ironic. The reality of working for a descendant of James Addison and turning the actual legend to life seemed more than a bit coincidental. It was as if it were preordained by fa…no, she wasn’t going to say the “f” word.

A faint sound coming from the bedroom on the other side of the wall had her stopping and turning around. Muffled through the plaster, it sounded like a woman’s sob. Who was sleeping in the other room? Her aunt’s room was downstairs at the back of the house. Had her aunt invited a friend over while they had been out?

April couldn’t go back to sleep knowing someone was crying in the next room. She flipped on her bedside lamp and slipping into her robe and lamb booties, tip-toed out into the darkened hallway.

The door of the room next to hers was slightly ajar. Listening at the opening she couldn’t hear anything. She accidentally nudged the door a bit with her head, causing it to squeak open on its rusty hinges.

“Hello?” April called out. She peeked around the solid wood door and pressed the old button style light switch illuminating the room. The antique switch worried her. How many times had she told her aunt to get the electric re-wired in this house?

No one occupied the room. The white, shabby-chic vintage room was perfectly neat and tidy, the petal pink Chenille bedspread and shams all in place. Even though April knew it would be a waste of time, she checked the door to the adjoining bathroom. The muffled sobs she’d heard couldn’t have been this far from her own wall. The bathroom was empty. Walking back into the bedroom she noticed a strong smell of lilac that hadn’t been there before.