In the Midnight Hour

by Kimberly Raye

  “And the great Valentine Tremaine never forgets a woman’s face.”

  He nodded.

  “Or a name,” she added, reminding him of his memory lapse a few days before.

  He cast her a sharp glare. “Unless I am severely distracted by scantily clad redheads bent on seduction.”

  She fought to hide her smile while he drew a deep breath and turned to stare over the balcony railing. “I danced a few dances, kissed a delicious-looking woman in the garden, but otherwise—”

  “No Claire?”

  “Not that I can recall.”

  “And no flannel-wearing redheads?”

  “Thankfully, no.”

  “Then it’s safe to say your memory was probably intact,” she said. “What happened after the ball?”

  “I remember settling down to play cards in the library with the usual group, a few nearby plantation heads, men I knew through business dealings. I won a few hands, tossed down several drinks, and the rest is a blur. I awoke the next morning in a rundown cabin on the edge of my plantation.”

  “Alone?”

  “With the exception of one hellacious headache and a distinct impression on the sheets next to me where a woman had been.”

  “How do you know it was a woman?”

  He gave her a heated look. “The scent, chérie. I know a woman’s scent. But, alas, I did not know the identity of the woman, and there was no evidence that she’d been a virgin.”

  “Evidence?”

  “Blood.”

  “Oh.” She blushed, despite the fact that it was the nineties and she was a modern woman. Val made her feel so naïve with his vast experience. Worse, he made her feel hot. Bothered. Turned on. And with nothing more than a glance.

  She cleared her throat. “Maybe it wasn’t her.”

  “That’s what I told the preacher when he demanded the truth. That there was a chance I’d done the deed, but also a chance I had not, and that I could not recall.”

  “And then?”

  “He shot me in my bed.” He said the words so matter-of-factly, as if the past didn’t mean a thing.

  It didn’t, not to her anyway. She cared only about the future. Her future. Her career.

  That’s what she told herself, but she couldn’t help the ache that stirred in her chest at the sight of him, the rigid set to his shoulders, the sadness that haunted his expression.

  “So how did you find out about my untimely demise?” he asked after a long silent moment.

  “At the archives in Baton Rouge. I did some research on Claire, and while I was there, I looked up your death certificate.”

  Hope lit his eyes as his gaze met hers. “Claire? Did you find anything?”

  “A birth certificate. Val, there was a child born to a Claire Wilbur eight months to the day after your death.”

  “Mine?”

  Disappointment welled inside her. “I’m sorry. There was no father listed. Just the mother.”

  He bolted to his feet and started to pace. “But I need to know. Merde! I have to know. How can I rest with something like that hanging over my head? I cannot. I simply cannot!”

  “There’s nothing you can do to make amends, Val. It was a long time ago. You can’t let the guilt eat you up this way.”

  “Guilt?” He turned an incredulous gaze on her. “Is that what you think this is about?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Bon Dieu, non!” He smiled. “It’s hope, Veronique. Hope.”

  “You mean you want this child to be yours?”

  His smile faded into serious contemplation. “Make no mistake, I regret the circumstances surrounding the conception, but a child. My child.” Sheer joy chased the sadness from his rugged features. “I could never regret such a wondrous miracle. Tell me, was it a boy or a girl?”

  “A girl.”

  “A daughter?” He closed his eyes as if relishing the information. “A daughter.”

  “I was the only son,” he went on. “The last hope to carry on my father’s name, but I failed. Until Claire. Maybe Claire.” He shook his head, stark desperation creeping across his features. “My spirit cannot rest until I know whether or not I did, indeed, sire a child. My child.” He stared at her. “Then I can cross over and finally be at peace. Then and only then.”

  The idea should have thrilled her. Val was temporary. Here today, gone tomorrow. Safe. Instead, the notion of his leaving left a dull ache in the pit of her stomach.

  Because of her project. She couldn’t let him go until she’d finished her paper, and despite the fact that they’d reached step twenty with all the flirting techniques and the ten different kisses, they still weren’t even halfway to the Ultimate Fifty, and she had practically zero experiments to support what she’d learned.

  She needed Val. In more ways than one, she added when he stared at her lips a fraction too long and she felt that funny tingling in the pit of her stomach. Anticipation. Excitement. Hunger. Full-blown, desperate, I-want-you-here-and-now hunger.

  “So what do we do now?” he asked.

  She took a long, deep breath and fought for control of her rebellious hormones. “It’s possible there are local records that might list Claire and/or Emma.”

  “Emma?” He smiled, saying the name again as if testing it. “Emma. That’s nice.”

  “I’ll drive over to Heaven’s Gate and see what I can find out next week. I’ve got Saturday morning off.”

  His gaze met hers. “Thank you, Veronique.” The words, so quiet and desperate, tugged at something deep, deep inside her, beneath the lust and the raging hormones.

  She fought the feeling back down. “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because this arrangement is mutually beneficial. I help you, you help me. This is strictly a business arrangement.”

  No sympathy. No compassion. No real feelings for a real man—make that ghost.

  Just a ghost. A here-today, gone-tomorrow, no-strings-attached ghost.

  “So what’s on the agenda for tonight, Professor Love?”

  A wicked grin spread across his handsome face, and Ronnie’s blood rushed in anticipation. “Kissing,” he declared.

  “But I thought we did kissing last night.”

  “Oui, but tonight’s the demonstration.”

  “This isn’t what I had in mind,” she said ten minutes later when Danny knocked on her door and Val said, “Time for the demonstration.”

  “So what’s the emergency?” Danny asked when she let him in.

  “Emergency?”

  “The message on my answering machine said you had an emergency and I should come right over. I figured you were sick. You sounded really… funny. Your voice was deeper.”

  “I’m going to get you for this,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What did you say?”

  She cleared her throat and lowered her tone. “I—I said I think I’m coming down with a cold.”

  “So what’s the desperate emergency?”

  “I, uh, ordered a pizza and I didn’t want to eat by myself.”

  He cast her a puzzled glance. “Pizza? That’s the emergency?”

  “And I—I thought I heard a noise.”

  “And you called me?” He cast a wary glance around him and lowered his voice. “I’m not really cut out for this stuff, Ron. You should have called the police.”

  “It’s okay. It was just… um, Pringles. Yeah, I found Pringles lurking around, but I’d already called you, so I thought I’d treat you to pizza, a reward for dragging you away from home in the middle of the night.” She glanced at the clock. Half past midnight. “Hey, shouldn’t you be at your midnight study session with Wanda?”

  “I was, but then I left because I was supposed to be on my way to the vet. My dog’s got the flu.”

  “You don’t have a dog.”

  “I know.”

  “And I didn’t know dogs could get the flu.”

  “Neither does Wanda. Lucky for you; otherwise you’
d be eating pizza by yourself.” He headed straight for her refrigerator, pulled out a carton of orange juice, and gulped straight from the carton. When he noticed her frown, he added, “I’ll buy you a new one,” before taking another huge gulp. “Geez, it’s hot in here—or is it just me?”

  “It’s definitely you.” She smiled. “You still haven’t told her how you feel about her, have you?”

  “Would I be taking my nonexistent dog to the vet if I had?”

  “You know, Danny, she just might surprise you. Maybe she likes you, too, and doesn’t know how to tell you.”

  “Maybe, and maybe not, and the maybe not’s a helluva lot more possible than the maybe. So when’s the pizza coming?” He flipped on the TV and flopped down in the recliner.

  “What are you waiting for?” Val’s deep whisper echoed in Ronnie’s ears and she whirled to find him standing behind her.

  “Get out of here!”

  “He can’t see me. Only those who believe in me can see me,” he reminded her.

  She turned back to find Danny’s questioning gaze fixed on her. “Did you say something?” he asked.

  “Uh, I said let me get you a beer.”

  “I didn’t know you stocked beer.”

  “I, um, don’t, but if I did, I would certainly get you one.”

  He looked puzzled. “That’s nice of you. I guess.”

  “You’re stalling”, Val said. “Stop wasting time and kiss him.”

  “I can’t kiss Danny. I don’t even like him. I mean, I like him, but I don’t like him. He’s practically family.”

  “All the better,” he murmured.

  Or maybe it was wishful hearing on her part. She glanced at him. Not a hint of emotion shone in his deep blue eyes. Certainly not jealousy.

  “You don’t have to like this man,” he added. “Just kiss him, Veronique. It’s an experiment.”

  “I thought you didn’t want me doing any more experiments.”

  “Danny is safe. You said so yourself.”

  “That’s why I can’t. He’s my friend. I’d definitely be violating the safety issue.”

  “You’d rather be forced to search for a perfect stranger?”

  “Actually, I’d settle for one stubborn tutor.”

  “Against the rules, chérie. Now remember what I told you, and simply kiss him.”

  Ronnie stared at Val with uncertainty for a long second, and something dangerously close to longing welled inside her. Longing? He was a ghost, for heaven’s sake, and if he wasn’t going to give her a demonstration, she would go elsewhere. After all, this was her project. Her grade. Her future.

  Tamping down her insecurities, she turned and approached Danny.

  “Ronnie, you need some—” Danny started, his sentence cut short when Ronnie leaned in, so close his warm breath fanned her lips. He jerked back an inch. “What are you doing?”

  “Come here.” She pulled him to his feet until they were toe to toe. “Close your eyes, all right?”

  “Why?”

  “I need your help for an experiment. Now close them. Please. I promise it won’t hurt.” At least, she didn’t think it would. But since she hadn’t kissed anyone since her fiancé, Raymond, and then it hadn’t been half as detailed as what Val had described last night, she wasn’t so sure.

  He shrugged and his eyelids drifted closed. “Are you going to make me imagine another fantasy? Because if you are, I’ve got a really good one.”

  Ronnie took a deep breath and wet her lips. For all her determination, she hesitated. She was about to kiss a man—really kiss one for the very first time. Forget the pecks to her father’s cheek, the chaste I’ll-wait-till-we-get-married kisses Raymond had given her. This was the real thing.

  “Stop stalling.” Val’s deep voice whispered through her head. She felt him next to her, surrounding her, it seemed, his lips a trembling vibration against her temple. “Lean forward, open your mouth just as I described, and do what I told you.”

  “Okay,” she snapped. “Just hold your horses.” I can do this, she told herself. I can, I can, I can.

  “You can,” Val assured her, then launched into a very descriptive explanation of everything he would do to her, if circumstances had been different. If he were a real man without a No Virgin policy.

  “Now kiss him,” Val instructed.

  She nodded, needing to kiss, to touch, after the enticing things Professor Love had murmured in her ear. This was in the interest of science, after all.

  “Now,” he growled.

  “Now,” she said.

  “Okay,” Danny said. “The fantasy goes like this. We’re in Wanda’s room for this fantasy, just like before, and we’re studying…”

  Danny’s vivid description of his latest erotic wish faded as Ronnie cracked one eye at Val to make sure he wasn’t watching. This was embarrassing enough without an audience.

  Her gaze collided with his. He stared at her, a strange look on his handsome face, and something shifted inside her. She felt the ache in her middle, the sizzle of blood through her veins, the anticipation. But none of it was directed at her kiss with Danny. She felt the strange emotions for Val.

  “… so she leans forward,” Danny, went on, “and I feel the slow glide of silk on my arm—her hair. Man-o-man, it’s soft.”

  Ronnie ignored the desperate urge to turn and lay one on Val, fixing her attention instead on Danny and leaning in.

  “… I’ve never felt anything so soft—”

  Her lips touched his.

  “What the …?” He gasped and started to pull away, but she caught his face, holding his smooth cheeks beneath her hands, determined more than ever to do this. An experiment.

  Danny tried to push her away. His fingers circled her wrists tightly, and then something happened. He stiffened, as if he meant to thrust her away, but then muscles relaxed, his grip loosened, and his lips parted.

  And then he was the one doing the kissing.

  His passionate response shocked her at first, then lulled her, his lips nibbling, coaxing, his hands trailing down her back, grazing the bumps of her spine and sending shivering tingles through her body.

  Her tongue darted out, tangled with his in the slow thrust and glide Val had taught her…. Val.

  She saw him in her mind’s eye, felt his lips on hers, his hands touching her, pulling her close, closer…

  But it was Danny’s face she saw when she finally came up for air, her chest heaving, lips tingling.

  He looked stunned, unmoving, blue eyes glazed. Shocked.

  “Danny, I, um, sorry. I had to—” Wait a second. Blue?

  She fixed her own eyes, but he’d already snapped his shut.

  When they opened and focused, they were the same old brown they always were. As if they’d be anything else.

  Blue. Wishful, diluted, desperate thinking.

  Danny shook his head. “What just happened?”

  “A kiss…” She’d kissed Danny. But that wasn’t the problem. She’d liked kissing Danny. She’d loved it. Her head was spinning, her toes curling, her insides fumbling over one another. That was the problem.

  “You have to go.”

  “But we were just getting to the part where I kiss her—”

  “Go!” She steered him around and shoved him toward the door.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s late and we both need to get to sleep.”

  “But I’m wide awake. I feel the best I’ve felt in a heck of a long time—”

  “See ya.” She slammed the door in his face, leaned back against the cool wood, and tried to slow her pounding heart.

  And all because of one kiss. With Danny. Danny.

  “I… it worked,” she blurted when her eyes snapped open to find Val standing near the French doors, staring at her. “Your technique, um, was right on target.” On target? Hell, she’d just shot a bull’s-eye at a hundred paces. One more surefire step to add to her precious fifty.

  So why wasn’t she happy?
<
br />   She was too busy being confused. Floored. Completely and totally baffled.

  “It worked, all right,” Val grumbled, sounding about as pleased as she felt. Twin blue pools of liquid heat scorched her and her stomach went hollow. “Too well, from the looks of things.”

  Guilt shot through her and she looked away. Guilt? Because she’d kissed Danny? Because she’d done it in front of Val? No, because she’d liked it in front of Val, the man of her dreams.

  But he wasn’t a man. He was a ghost, and he was fading right in front of her eyes even though it was barely two a.m.

  “Val, something’s wrong. You’re fading.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “But I thought you had enough spirit juice to keep going until three a.m.”

  “Not tonight,” he snapped. “I’m retiring early. Sweet dreams.” Before Ronnie could blink, Val faded completely, leaving her to wonder what had just happened.

  Why Val had conked out before his time was up.

  Why she was still buzzing from kissing Danny, of all people.

  And why, oh why, she wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

  Val tingled. From his head down to his transparent toes.

  Which wasn’t the problem in itself. A certain amount of tingling was to be expected after he’d concentrated so much energy and slipped inside Danny for those few moments of possession. Tingling, mind you. But Val was vibrating. Humming.

  And all because of one kiss.

  Her kiss.

  He watched her move about the apartment. She picked up books, hung up stray clothes. She was upset, because no way would his Veronique willingly clean up when she should be climbing into bed to sleep. She didn’t have time for cleaning, which was why he did it for her. To see that grateful look on her face, that small smile when she walked in and saw everything in its place.

  She was upset, darting about the room grabbing at things, her gaze straying every once in a while, as if she expected to find him watching her.

  Hell, he was, but she couldn’t see him now, not when his spirit was so weak after the possession.

  So shaken after the kiss.

  She finally finished up and went into the bathroom. The door thudded behind her, and Val closed his eyes, thankful she’d taken the sweet, tempting scent of strawberries and cream with her.