Blind Lust

by Annie Seaton

  As he waited, snatches of a song flitted through his head, and he hummed the melody under his breath, trying to hold it in his thoughts. At two o’clock precisely, the kitchen light came on. His head jerked around, his blood running cold when he saw the top of Aunt Helen’s bouffant hairstyle through the window. Rubbing his hand over his eyes, he turned and looked again. Sure enough, the beehive bun was bobbing along the gap above the lace curtains.

  Josh closed his gaping mouth when the cold air hit his throat, and he fought back a cough. Creeping along the porch, he stood outside the kitchen window, his body rigid with shock. Pots bubbled merrily on the stove, and the warm aroma of baking bread hit his nostrils once more. Crackling flames reached merrily for the chimney in the fireplace, and steam rose from the hot, soapy water, where pots and pans soaked in the old stone sink.

  Swallowing nervously, he reached for the doorknob and tapped lightly on the kitchen door.

  “Come in, son.” Aunt Helen’s cheery voice welcomed him.

  Shaking his head in disbelief, he pushed open the door and entered the kitchen.

  A cold, empty kitchen. A couple of empty pans sitting on the stove. The fireplace cold and dark.

  He sat for a long time on the porch, waiting for the night to die. As fingers of dawn mist settled on the fields surrounding the house, he pushed himself wearily to his feet and went inside and upstairs to bed.

  Now, flicking through the library books, he waited for his soup to heat. It soon became clear that the books were a waste of time. He laughed when he read some of the passages on removing ghosts.

  “Ensure that the energies in and around your home are positive and that the occupants and visitors are not attracting ghosts of a negative nature.”

  Not a ghost of a negative nature—it’s her house. I’m the intruder. The clattering of pots and pans sounds the same as it did when I was a boy. Aunt Helen was a great cook; he had loved coming to visit during summer vacation.

  “Begin by cleaning your house with purified water and then protect it by imagining a bright light covering your house and protecting you and the other occupants. This will give you an invisible yet powerful shield against unwanted ghosts.”

  Oh, Lordy, give me a break. He grinned. His foot began to tap, and his fingers twitched while the words of a song drifted through his head. He ran for his computer; it was the first time in a year he had felt the itch. His fingers flew furiously across the keyboard as the song wrote itself.

  The acrid smell of burning soup roused him some time later, and he put the computer aside, groaning when he saw the mess in the kitchen. Not only was the soup stuck, black and burned on the bottom of the pan, the entire contents of the saucepan cupboard were stacked neatly on the old scrubbed table in the middle of the room. He hadn’t heard a thing.

  He looked around the room. It was a lovely space, bunches of herbs still hung drying around the window. A line of glass bottles on the windowsill held a variety of unfamiliar ingredients. He soaked the burned pan in the old stone sink and put the other pans back in the cupboard.

  After cooking toast and opening a jar of jelly from the pantry, he carried his meal to the chair in the parlor. Picking up the newspaper the nervous librarian had given him, he browsed the local news. As he turned the pages, a small advertisement discreetly tucked at the bottom of the public notices caught his eye. He sat up straight, reading the small text with interest.

  Ghost hunter, available in the Silverton Valley. Telephone 612-7265. Carefully tearing the information from the newspaper, he placed it in his pocket, determined to give it some serious consideration. After all, he had a whole summer stretching ahead of him.

  The first frog started croaking when the storm passed over to the next valley, and a woman of dazzling beauty perched on a low branch of a tall birch tree at the back of Lizzy’s cottage garden. She smiled when her son materialized next to her.

  “Be careful, my lad, stay back so she does not see us.”

  Cupid frowned. “But we are rendered invisible from mortal eyesight are we not, Mother?”

  A soft tinkling laugh from Venus. “My son, she is not mortal. That is why the wager is unattainable.”

  Cupid glared at his mother. Why was he destined to be easily duped?

  “She is a witch.” Venus settled more comfortably against the narrow branch. “Watch, she fights it with her spells, but ‘twill do her no good. Your arrow is imbued with power. It is an arrow of mystical energy, not magic, so her spell will not work. But she is a witch with strong willpower. She will fight this love. It will be fun to watch.”

  He could see the success of his wager disappearing. “Well,” replied Cupid petulantly. “I shall send an arrow to the one she admires, and she will have to fight twice as hard.”

  Slowly, silently the full moon walked the night sky. Lizzy sat cross-legged in a circle of red candles on the damp grass in her back garden. Tall trumpet lilies bowed their heads elegantly to the moonlight; silver licorice plants formed long draping sweeps illuminated by the soft light. The vanilla scent of white heliotrope mingled with the sweet smoke drifting across her hands, which rested lightly in her lap. Voices whispered in the silver birch trees and she chanted softly under her breath, repeating the incantation twenty-one times.

  “Unwanted love leave me be, cease your ardor, my warm regards have no path.”

  At the end of each seventh incantation, Lizzy lit another candle and closed her eyes to begin the next round. When she finished and the candles died, she stood, stretching, her body and soul renewed, clear of any carnal desires. She frowned. It had been a most peculiar day. Her body yearned for Josh, and now for the first time in thirty years, Wesley’s naked chest stayed in her mind.

  Chapter 5

  JOSH DROVE INTO TOWN the next morning, looking for a public telephone. After sleeping on it, he had decided to call the ghost hunter; in any case, there was nothing to lose apart from his reputation as a sane person. All he needed was some advice. It seemed Aunt Helen was still around trying to tell him something, and he would find out how he could help the dear old soul pass on, or through, or wherever it was that spirits went. The trip to the library had unearthed nothing apart from an acquaintance with a very attractive local, despite her dreadful homespun garb. He patted his pocket, checking to make sure he had the two numbers he needed. It was definitely a way to pass time over the next three months.

  Parking his Porsche across from the library, he strode into the county office and waited at the information counter to find out if there was a public telephone in town, and more embarrassingly, to find out how to use one and if he needed coins or a card.

  Ten minutes later, he entered the general store, coins jingling in his pocket. He sat down at a red telephone and retrieved the two numbers from his pocket. He laid them side by side on the counter and was surprised when he read off the two numbers. They were the same.

  This town was getting more interesting by the day. Timid little Miss Sweet was not only the local librarian, but she was also the ghost hunter. That or she shared a telephone number with the ghost hunter. Dropping the coins in the slot, he listened as the phone clicked over to a message at the other end.

  “Hello, you’ve reached Lizzy Sweet. Please leave a message and your number and I will return your call as soon as I can.”

  Josh hung up without leaving a message and headed for the library. Pushing open the door, he stepped back to let a couple dressed in white exit. Whistling to himself quietly, he checked out the long tanned legs of the woman walking down the steps. He ogled her legs, which disappeared up into a brief white skirt. He bumped into a tall man with long black hair tied back in a ponytail, and dark, hostile eyes looked him up and down. The taller man blocked his entry before grunting at him rudely and then pushed past him.

  Josh shrugged and joined the line at the counter, watching Lizzy process the books for a continuous stream of old people. She was wearing a brown cardigan that clashed with the silver of her hair. Dangling si
lver earrings swung jauntily from her ears. He looked at her with male appreciation; she had such a delicate little face. A lot of eye candy in the library today. Maybe it wasn’t Hicksville after all.

  He waited patiently, swatting absently at a mosquito buzzing around his head, grimacing when it found the soft skin on the side of his neck. Reaching the counter, he pulled the advertisement from his pocket and looked up into beautiful gray eyes. His head spun, and his vision blurred for a moment. With shaking hands, he clutched at his stomach while the room tilted.

  He struggled for words and his stumbling voice sounded to him as though it came from far away. “Er…ah…er…good morning.” He knew a silly grin was plastered across his face, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  Josh looked at her sweet face, her beautiful eyes full of humor and warmth. She was returning his gaze as though she was also mesmerized.

  “G-G-Good morning, Mr. Deegan. Would you like to book the…er…computer again?”

  “Ah…not at the moment. I was hoping you would spend your life…I mean…have lunch with me?”

  She stood up slowly behind the desk and reached both hands out to him. She shook her head, and his heart broke into a thousand pieces. Taking her hands, he looked down at them, marveling at their softness and beauty. His gaze traveled up her arms, her elegant neck, and then locked with her beautiful silver eyes.

  “I can’t,” she apologized, biting her lip in apparent distress. “I must have lunch with my friend.”

  “I need your services…that is…if this is you?” He dropped one hand to the advertisement. “I think I might need a ghost hunter. That is, I don’t believe in ghosts, but I need to talk to someone who does, and I thought a ghost hunter would.” He babbled in desperation. His heart seemed to swell in his chest. He took a moment to catch his breath.

  “Will you have lunch with me? Please?” He closed his eyes, trying to regain his equilibrium. Who was this bumbling fool who had taken over his brain and mouth?

  Opening his eyes, he held his breath. She glanced up at the clock near the door. His heartbeat slowed, beating in time with the second hand as it moved slowly around, until she finally nodded. He started breathing again, filled with an intense joy. It pervaded his entire body; he had never felt this good. It was an even bigger rush than standing on stage in front of fifty thousand screaming fans.

  “As long as you don’t mind sharing lunch with my friend as well? Can you meet me at the picnic table in the park across the square in fifteen minutes?”

  He smiled and nodded without speaking. Josh Deegan was in love for the first time in his life.

  Lizzy spent ten minutes preparing for lunch in front of the mirror in the rest room. Reapplying her lipstick with shaking hands, she ran her fingers through her silvery strands of hair, lifting it away from her damp neck. Nerves and the continuing summer heat in a building without air-conditioning left her flushed and perspiring. She leaned closer to the mirror and noticed a mosquito bite on the side of her neck. Eyes narrowing, she examined the heart-shaped bite. Scrabbling through the depths of her handbag, she retrieved her mirror and held the magnifying side to her neck.

  Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the perfect small pink heart on her skin. No wonder her spell from last night had dissipated as soon as Josh Deegan stood in front of her this morning. She was dealing with physical energy here, not magic. She recalled a story of Cupid and his magic arrows at her grandmother’s knee but had paid no heed to the legend since that time.

  She thought back to yesterday, remembering the strange little man in the white suit who was following her when she felt the sting on her neck. Why had Cupid chosen her, a witch, as his target? Surely the gods were smart enough to know that an immortal was able to dispel the lust of such an arrow?

  Josh must think she was a clumsy fool; although on second thought, he had been acting pretty strangely himself. Taking one last look at her appearance, she locked the library, picking up her lunch box and dropping it in her bag on the way out. Walking thoughtfully across the park, Lizzy looked up at the two men sitting across from each other at the picnic table. She smothered a grin. Antagonism sizzled in the air between them. Wesley’s aura was red with suppressed anger, and a dark pink aura surrounded Josh. Sliding onto the bench next to Wesley, she placed her hand on his arm, sending him a silent message to calm down before she spoke.

  “Wes, we have some business to discuss with Mr. Deegan. Have you introduced yourself?”

  Wesley scowled at her. “Yes, we’ve met. Mr. Deegan has been most interested in you. He has been asking lots of questions.” Wesley looked very unhappy.

  “None of which Mr. Gordon would answer,” growled Josh. He looked over at Lizzy and smiled sweetly. Resting his elbow on the table, he dropped his chin in his hand and stared at her without blinking.

  Lizzy took a deep breath and reached for the courage to look back at Josh as she pulled the lunch box from her bag. Eyes narrowing, her gaze followed his fingers absently scratching at his neck.

  “Josh…turn your head to the side.” Lizzy narrowed her eyes, her voice anxious.

  Wesley turned his head swiftly at the distress in her voice. He jumped to his feet, reached across the table and grabbed Josh by the shirtfront.

  “Stop leering at her, you pervert. I’ve a good mind to turn you into a frog.” He put his face up close to Josh and glared at him.

  “Wesley Gordon, sit back down.” Lizzy reached across the table and pulled his hands away from Josh. “Now.”

  “What exactly have I gotten myself into in this hick town?” Josh looked at them both, confusion written all over his face.

  “Ghosts, crazy overgrown boys, frogs?” He stood and glared at Wesley, throwing an apologetic glance Lizzy’s way. He bunched his fists in front of his chest.

  “Go on, do your best, buddy.”

  Wesley stood, fists bunched, and Lizzy grabbed his hands again before he could lunge across the table. She placed a turkey and brie sandwich in front of each of them before she spoke, her voice cold.

  “Unless the two of you can behave like civil human beings—” she glared at Wesley when he snickered, “—I will have my lunch elsewhere and the two of you can take a flying leap into the mill pond.” The two men sat down reluctantly, continuing to glare across the table at each other.

  “Now Josh, tell me exactly why you need a ghost hunter.” She turned to look at Josh.

  He reached out his hand and brushed the back of her knuckles. Warmth invaded her body. From the corner of her eye, she saw Wesley roll his eyes just before her gaze locked with Josh’s deep brown eyes.

  Chapter 6

  ANOTHER STORM WAS BUILDING when Lizzy turned her little old car onto the track leading to Aunt Helen’s farmhouse. No, she corrected herself, it was Josh Deegan’s farmhouse now, or it soon would be.

  Tapping lightly on the kitchen door, she sniffed appreciatively at the woodsmoke drifting from the chimney. The door opened, and those beautiful brown eyes crinkled in a smile. He ushered her through the doorway into the welcoming kitchen. She had always loved this room and had spent many hours during Helen’s last months in here, preparing herbals to relieve the old woman’s pain.

  “It’s lovely to see the stove alight again,” she said stupidly, looking away from him. A log popped in the fire, and the embers drifted lazily up the stove chimney. Lizzy sensed Josh step closer to her. Even though Lizzy knew now why she felt so helpless, her will was gone, and she could not move when his hands gently cradled her face. Her limbs were weightless, and her heart thudded. A strange mist fell before her eyes, and she blinked. Finding the courage to look at him, a soft moan escaped her lips. The mist lifted, and a future with this mortal flashed before her eyes. Their gazes held, and she sank into the warm depths of his eyes as his lips moved toward her neck. Her mouth dropped open, her breath coming in short, soft pants. This was what she wanted, this mindless mating of the flesh. Nothing else mattered to her in that moment.

  N
erve endings sizzled, and the warmth of his mouth moved from the little pink heart on her neck, along her jaw, sliding to a stop at the side of her lips. The roughness of unshaven skin against her soft cheek left her face tingling. He paused. Gently pushing her away, he looked deep into her eyes. She closed the space between them and offered her lips to him.

  His gentle lips closed on her mouth. Warmth suffused her entire body, and her stomach tightened. She pushed against Josh, craving completion.

  But his mouth stayed gentle, his tongue seeking permission to dance. Lizzy opened her lips in acceptance, almost sobbing as his breath mingled with hers. His hands cradled her face with reverence. Her hands reached around and locked behind his neck, pulling his head down to her. She was sure she would stop breathing if his mouth broke from hers.

  When her fingers brushed the pink raised heart on his neck, a chill engulfed her and her heart stilled. Coldness pervaded her limbs, and she grabbed his hands away from her face pushing them away.

  “No.” Her voice rose when his hands moved back to her shoulders. “No. Stop. I said no.”

  Backing away, she stared at him, her hands clenched behind her back. She stepped back until she reached the counter on the other side of the kitchen. Josh’s eyes widened in distress, and he held a hand out to her in apology.

  “Lizzy, I am so sorry.” His face was aghast with horror. “I don’t know what came over me.” He stepped toward her, and she shrank back against the counter, feeling the blood drain from her face.

  “Don’t touch me.” She was terrified.

  He stopped, both hands raised in front of his chest, trying to soothe her from across the kitchen.