by Wendi Zwaduk
“Ryan.”
Her breathy voice heated his blood and spurred him on. He glanced at her computer. A slideshow of hot guys filled the screen. So she liked beefcake? Good to know. He laced his fingers with hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. “You love television cops and have a particular fondness for the guy who plays Evan Turner on Vice.”
“How do you know that?”
“Your screen saver.” He nodded over her shoulder. “I see you also have—Samara, I’m flattered.” She’d even chosen the picture where he’d flexed his muscles with the glow from the Reformatory behind him. Nice. His heart swelled in time with his erection. “Good thing ole Nolan married your sister. You’ve moved up to the best taste in men.”
“Thanks,” she replied in a tart voice.
“How about you try for cheerful?” His guts coiled at the sadness in her eyes. “Tell me how he hurt you. I can’t change the past, but I’m here now.”
Samara nibbled the corner of her mouth and stepped back. She glanced away twice before speaking. “I come from a family of tall, model-thin women. Jonquil and Willow have glossy black hair and twenty-two-inch waists. I’m the short, curvy runt. Men see my sisters and I fade into the background. As far as guys are concerned, I’ve been invisible for the last fourteen years.” She chuckled and wrapped her arms around her midsection. “I’d love to know what it’s like to be five-seven, just once.”
“It’s not much different from being five-three.” Ryan captured her loosely in his arms, stroking her hair. “The guys who looked past you were fools or blind.” He breathed in her scent, needing the comfort of her nearness. “You have a journalism degree, don’t you?”
“That’s not on my screen saver.”
“I checked your creds when I went looking for another videographer.” He tugged her flush against him and splayed his hands across her back. “What’s on the computer? I know you weren’t staring at my hot bod, although I’d like to believe it.”
“At least you don’t lack ego. My screen saver is my private stress reliever and inspiration.” She shrugged, her gaze not quite meeting his. “I write short stories—romance—to escape. Although, sometimes real life makes for the best fiction.”
His ire rose for a split second. Nah, not Samara. She’d have said something. “You didn’t come here for a juicy story starter, did you?” he asked, feigning irritation. “I charge for that sort of thing.”
She stared at him with a mix of incredulousness and shock. “Yeah, hearing your beau scream his ex’s name in his sleep is such an invitation to romance.”
Point taken and punishment dealt, Ryan relaxed a bit. Beau? He loved the sound of the endearment on her lips. “It was a dream I didn’t want, you know. I’m a one-woman man.”
“I believe you.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “But it was unreal.”
“What was? Tell me what you saw, sweetheart.”
“In my dream, I saw the whole thing through your eyes. Felicity’s our evil entity. She wants you dead so no one else can have you. Her energy’s dying, but if she can convince you to fall back in love with her she’ll live again.” She chuckled when he opened his mouth to speak. She fluttered her hands in the air, effectively cutting off his response. “I read your mind like you said I could, Ryan. If you’d have told me that was possible twenty-four hours earlier, I would’ve given you my best stiff right hook. I’m on shaky ground, but I trust you.”
“My face thanks you.” He processed her words, confused and a bit relieved. “You’re saying our being together is to her detriment, not some grand scheme to give me my life back?” Felicity said all he had to do was confess he cared for someone else. Declare he found his Spirit Mate and his heart and she’d be gone.
Consider it done.
“Sort of.”
“But if I admit I’m in love with you and it gets rid of my guilt, then it gets rid of her, too. Seems impossible.”
Samara backed away from him, her brows furrowing and her cheeks pale. “Listen to yourself. Are you telling me you love me in order to unload her?” She put both hands in the air, as if to block him, and closed her eyes. “I can’t play that way. I’m not here so you can make peace.”
“I didn’t say that. I want a clean slate, yes, but—” Shit. He’d fucked everything up. He’d cared for Felicity, probably always would, but nothing like his feelings for Samara. She’d wrapped around his soul without trying.
“She’s all you think about. You want her back. ” Tears streamed down Samara’s cheeks as she grabbed her clothes from the floor. “What time is the lock down?” she asked and yanked her shirt down past her head.
“We meet Nancy at eight.” God, just don’t walk out the door.
“Fine.” Samara wriggled into her jeans and shoved her feet into her shoes. “I’ll see you then.”
“Please don’t leave.” He needed more words, more time to convince her he truly loved her. She started past him, stopping only when he put a hand on her shoulder.
Sighing, she turned away from him. “I’m giving you space because I’m sure need it.”
Dammit all to hell. “Samara, you don’t have to go tonight.” He wasn’t going to let the woman of his heart slip through his fingers, but he refused to force her. “Don’t get me wrong, I want you to. Hell, when I blurted I love you, I meant it. You’re my Spirit Mate. The woman destined to be mine. But I don’t want you with me on the lockdown because you think I insist on it.”
“Spirit Mate? You’re sure I’m your Spirit Mate.”
“It sounds crazy, but it’s true. We—need each other. Not just for paranormal reasons, but because we balance each other and bring out the best. Together.”
“That’s probably the reason I sucked at dating.” She waved her hand. “‘Hi, my name is Samara. I have latent paranormal abilities, with no clue how to use them, oh, and I can’t be with you for the long haul unless you’re my ‘Spirit Mate’. Real smooth.”
He bit back the chuckle on his lips. Even angry, her sense of humour captivated him. “Samara.”
“I made the commitment. I won’t back out.” She drew a long breath and let it out slowly. “There’s so much swimming in my head right now, I’m not sure what to make of it. I want to believe you, to lose myself in this passion between us and have our happily ever after.”
“But?”
“I’m afraid I won’t have all of you.” She cupped his jaw, rubbing her thumb across his chin. “You still love Felicity. It’s buried pretty deep, but it’s still there and she clings to it. It’s what gives her energy and hope. I don’t want you to forget her, but I also can’t compete with her memory—Spirit Mate or not. I need your whole heart, not bits and pieces.”
“Samara…”
“I trust you, Ryan, I do. That’s why I’m coming back.” She brushed her tears away with the pads of her fingers. “If you love me like you say, then we’ll beat this.”
“And live out our golden years fucking in every room in our house?”
“Something like that.”
Ryan wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his forehead against hers. “If you need me, I’m only a thought away.”
“Same goes for me.”
Samara shrugged out of his embrace and strode out of the room. Ryan rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “Just make sure you need me.”
Chapter Ten
Three sleepless hours later, Samara stood in the shower. Although the searing water sluiced over her skin, the only temperature she registered was the cold empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. Ryan said he loved her, yet he called out the name of another woman—his wife! Who was to say he’d be able to move forward in the future? She wiped the tears from her eyes. Like crying would do any good…
Be honest with him like before. You are his Spirit Mate.
Samara twisted the knobs to turn off the water and exited the shower. She could almost hear her grandmother’s grousing. If you don’t tell him, you’ll never know what cou
ld be. Leap for once instead of sitting still.
Samara chuckled. Being in his arms, the sweetness of his kiss affected her to the very depths of her soul. He got her jokes and returned the favour with ease. And the sex? Her body ached in places she forgot existed—including her heart. She rubbed her hand over her tender bottom. Damn, the man could swat hard. Her ass still hurt—a good hurt, but it stung nonetheless.
“Leap, indeed. Thanks, Gramma.” Putting her heart out for his grasp would be the hardest thing she’d ever done, but if it meant his feelings were true she’d do it. If not, then live, learn and move on. She towelled off and began getting ready to go on the investigation. What to wear to creep through a dark mansion? A giggle escaped her throat as she gazed at the crimson gown in her closest. If she showed up in an old bridesmaid dress or her favourite little black dress, Ryan might approve, but the investigation wouldn’t take place.
Forgoing the formal wear, she opted for a black V-neck T-shirt and blue jeans—comfort and class. Fixing her hair seemed to take moments. The humidity-enhanced curls cooperated as she smoothed with the flatiron. She pursed her lips and checked the clock. Twenty-five to four. Perfect. Plenty of time for the drive across town, even if she hit every red light on the Cardington Boulevard
.
As she sped down the main drag of SnakeFalls, she sang to the songs on the radio. Each tune wrapped around her heart, reminding her of Ryan. She came to a stop in the parking lot and disengaged the engine. A woman in a black gown rounded her hood. A shiver slid through Samara’s body. As quickly as the woman appeared, she disappeared. Samara glanced around the still lot. Ryan said she saw the dead. She’d seen hell through his eyes in his dream. “Felicity?”
Shadows thickened around the entrance of the bland beige Showman building. Samara shoved the unease to the back of her mind. If Felicity or any other ghost wanted to cause harm, then fine. Let them. She wasn’t going to give the dead the upper hand. “I’ve backed down too many times in my life. No more. Respect me, or leave me alone.”
Folding her hands in her lap, she surveyed the landscape once again. Nothing seemed out of place. Had to be a figment of her imagination. She took a deep breath and got out of her car. The tension squeezing around her brain eased as she strolled into the foyer of Matilda’s office. The secretary, a lithe blonde with thick eyeliner rimming her eyes, cocked her brow. “Yes?”
“I’m here for a four o’clock with Ms. Snodgrass.”
The blonde flicked her hand and shouted. “The live one from last week is back. Send her in?” Her gaze travelled over Samara. “At least you have manners.”
Samara folded her clammy hands to hide the trembling. “Thanks?”
“Go on. She’s expecting you.”
Samara paused a beat before heading into Matilda’s office. She’d only ever seen the woman around the office, never in the cafeteria or meetings. Was the blonde one of the visible dead? Samara sighed and wiped her hands on her jeans to help diminish her jittery nerves. Once she talked to Matilda, she’d find Ryan and offer her heart to her Spirit Mate.
As she entered the darkened room, Matilda reclined in the corner of the shiny leather couch. “So you made it. Close the door.” She nodded to the doorway. “Hettie’s a nosy-butt.”
Samara complied and nibbled the corner of her mouth, not sure what to say or do. She’d never had a real discussion or even a quick exchange of words with Matilda, let alone Hettie. What should she say to a dead woman?
“Don’t be afraid of Hettie. She’s hanging around with a whole lot of nothing to do. If she could find Fordham, she’d be better off. She won’t bite.” Matilda patted the couch. Her gold bracelets jingled on her bony wrist. “Sit. I wondered if you could see me, but Ryan was right. It wasn’t a fluke. You have the talent.”
“I saw you yesterday in the atrium and last week in the cafeteria.” Samara perched on the opposite end of the couch and narrowed her eyes. “Although he never said you were a ghost, I’ve been able to see you since I started here.”
“Besides Tony, you were one of the ones I wanted to see me. He’s not dead, by the way, but he looks it sometimes. But we’re talking about you.” Matilda folded her arms and crooked a brow. “Knowing Ryan as I do, I assume he didn’t tell you much, did he?”
A twinge of jealousy slipped through her veins. Ryan never admitted to an affair with Matilda. Truth be told, he’d said spirits and the living couldn’t have carnal relations. But it wasn’t like they’d had too many discussions in the course of twenty-four hours. “Define tell.”
“Ryan Black is a piece of work.” The corner of Matilda’s mouth curled into a smirk. “He gets under the skin like a tattoo.”
“True.”
“You have guts, kid. Most run straight to Tony thinking I’m a figment of the internet. But I let you see me.” She laced her thin fingers together over her knee. “Let’s get down to brass tacks. I take it Honoria revealed your gift and split?”
Samara blinked back the sting in her eyes. “She didn’t have much choice—she just disappeared. Poof! Gone.”
“Typical. She wanted to see your Grampa in the worst way, not that I blame her. He’s a cutie.” She bounced her foot, staring at Samara. Matilda cleared her throat. “Ok, here’s the skinny—there are three general kinds of spirits.”
“Good, evil, and neutral?” Samara replied in a sing-song voice. They were wasting time. “And I can see those who want me to see them.”
“Not exactly.” Matilda snapped her fingers. A champagne flute filled with maroon liquid appeared in her hand. She sniffed the contents and sipped. “Good Merlot.” She sighed. “Some good people are still hanging around because they have unfinished business—like Honey. Then there are some who just like being on Earth and aren’t ready to completely cash it in. Likewise with the bad spirits. Some don’t want to burn in hell if they can have a ball here. The rest are like me.”
“Can’t let go of the limelight?” Samara ground her teeth together to bite back another caustic comment. Matilda might drive her to drinking, but she was attempting to help. “Go on.”
“I love your sense of humour. It reminds me of a couple of actresses I drank with in the thirties after I passed. How they loved the Ouija boards.” She snorted and shook her head. “No, I’m working off a debt.”
Samara sank back into the seat. Shock resonated in her reply. “Really?”
“Let’s say I wasn’t the best flapper girl. I ran around, enjoyed my booze and my men more than I should’ve. My boy-of-the-moment, Russell Sams, got jealous because I wasn’t monogamous with him.” She glanced away, then stared Samara in the eyes. “I’ve never told anyone this, but he choked the life out of me and is serving his time with the Horny Bastard down under.” She snorted. “It really was my fault. I told him to put me in my place if he caught me with another man because I thought I loved him. I didn’t realise his version of place meant a four-by-six hole.”
“That’s terrible.”
“It’s my fate and I accept it. Now my job is to get you and Ryan together.”
Samara shook her head and held up her hand, pausing the discussion. “Wait. That makes no sense. Why are you helping us?”
“I broke up homes, families, marriages… My penance is to put a few relationships together. To help people find their Spirit Mates.” She sipped the dark liquid, but the sadness didn’t dissipate from her words. “But don’t think I’m a good ghost. I could turn on you in a snap.”
“Spirit Mate? So it’s not a crock?”
“You and Ryan are of like mind. He’ll probably bushwhack it all up and say something foolish like he needs you to find his ex-wife.” She bobbed her head. “Yes and no. He needs you because being with his true Spirit Mate will erase all other lovers from his past, but if he says he’s supposed to be with her, he’s lying.”
Samara scrunched down in her seat. The severity of Matilda’s words crashed over her. If she truly trusted him as she said and forged past the irritation of Felici
ty, then they had a chance.
“You’d better trust him with your whole heart. Spirits are tricky devils. We can play with human emotions if we choose.”
“Why should I trust you? I remember what you said yesterday. For all I know, this is a trick to make me look stupid.”
“Because you’re a smart girl.”
Samara’s self-confidence waned. “I don’t know about that.” All the garbage from her past flew into her mind, adding to her self-doubt.
“If I wanted him for myself like I’ve said, I’m shooting my own foot. A spirit and a human cannot mate, first off. Second off, this is my good deed for the decade. Soon I’ll be able to move on and let Tony run the station on his own.”
“What was your last good deed?”
“The day the parachute pants fad died.”
“You won’t hear me complain.” She twined her fingers. “When did you die?”
“Nineteen twenty-two.”
“Holy shit.”
“Hey, I lived fast and left a beautiful spirit.” She fluffed her hair and pursed her lips. “I won beauty pageants with these looks.”
“You’re the piece of work, not Ryan.”
“Suit yourself, but be on guard. If any spirits want to jeopardise the union, they will.”
“Felicity?”
“I can’t validate your suspicion, but if you—I can’t believe I’m saying this—lead with your heart, then things will work out as they are supposed to. Now get moving. Tony doesn’t pay you to sit here with me shooting the breeze.”
“Thanks, Matilda.”
“Ta.”
With her heart lighter, Samara strode out of the office. She stopped in the hallway outside Ryan’s office. “I love you.” Her lips tingled and a smile kinked her mouth. The words felt right, sounded wonderful, tasted perfect on her tongue. Now to show him how she felt.
* * * *