Love & Ghosts: Crescent City Ghost Tours

by Pulkinen, Carrie

  She followed him through the living room, where a tan sofa sat across from an eighty-inch flat screen television. Surround-sound speakers hung from each corner of the room. The kitchen had slate gray tiles, dark cabinets, and stainless-steel appliances.

  “Your house is so…modern on the inside.”

  He twisted a bottle opener into the wine cork and took two glasses from a cabinet. “I had it renovated before I moved in. It was in bad shape—not much was salvageable. The wood floors are original though.”

  “There’s so much space for a single guy. What do you do with all the bedrooms?”

  He took a sip of wine and leveled his gaze on her. “They’re empty now, but I hope someday they’ll be filled.” A timer dinged, and he turned from her to open the oven.

  Her stomach did a little flip. Could she be the one to help him fill the empty bedrooms? She’d always wanted children. It was one of the reasons being a nurse practitioner had appealed to her over becoming a doctor. She could have a lighter schedule and have more time to spend with her family—a family she thought she’d have started on by now.

  But she’d wasted so much time with Phillip, with someone who only wanted her for better…not for worse. She shook her head to get her cheating ex out of her mind. She’d much rather concentrate on the delicious view of Sean’s backside as he bent down to retrieve something from the oven than think about her past. She hadn’t known Sean long, but the possibility of having a future with him made her insides flutter. He seemed solid. Stable. The kind of man who didn’t give up easily.

  “It’s ready. Grab your wine. I thought we’d dine al fresco tonight.” He led her out the door and onto the patio, and her breath caught at the sight.

  A small table dressed in white linens stood on the wooden deck, and strings of lights draped across the awning gave the entire scene a magical glow. Farther into the yard, a white fabric tent with the side curtains tied back revealed their movie theater for the evening. A myriad of colorful pillows lined the ground, and a television sat on a wooden box inside. It must’ve taken him hours to prepare.

  “Did you do all this for tonight? For me?”

  He pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit. “I wanted our first date to be special. Did I go overboard?”

  “No. Not at all. It is very special.”

  He grinned. “Good. I’ll go get dinner.”

  Wow. It was the only word her mind would form. No one had ever spent this kind of time and effort on her. He’d paid so much attention to detail. Everything was perfect: the lights, the linens. He probably even put a call in to the weather gods, because the temperature outside was perfect. If she thought spontaneous Sean was amazing, Sean with a plan was spectacular.

  “I hope you’re hungry.” He brought out two plates and kicked the door shut behind him. “And I hope it’s good. I’ve never made this before.”

  He set the plate in front of her, and her mouth watered. A stack of thick-sliced, breaded eggplant sat in the center, covered with a creamy sauce with six juicy shrimp surrounding it. She sliced into the stack and placed a piece in her mouth. The eggplant seemed to melt on her tongue, the savory flavor melding with the slight sweetness of the sauce to create a perfect combination.

  She swallowed and took a sip of wine. “This is delicious. Is there anything you aren’t good at?”

  “Hmm.” He scratched his chin and feigned deep thought. “I’m not very good at staying away from you.”

  The fluttering feeling returned to her stomach. “That’s a good thing.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  They finished dinner, and Sean rose to his feet. “Movie time.”

  “Shouldn’t we clean this up?”

  “I’ll take care of it later. Come on.” His smile beamed with excitement, and he bounced on his toes like a kid on Christmas waiting to tear into his presents. He took her hand and pulled her into the tent. “Get comfy.”

  He’d arranged the pillows to form the shape of a small sofa, and she settled into the pile of softness. He grabbed a remote and sidled next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. They fit together with such ease. Something about him made her feel comfortable, safe. He was warm and firm, and his woodsy scent made her head spin. She rested her hand on his stomach while he fiddled with the remote, and she resisted the urge to creep her fingers down lower.

  She wanted to touch him again. To feel his bare skin against hers, his lips on her body, his strong arms holding her close. But he’d spent so much time preparing for the evening. She could wait. They had all night.

  “Ah. There we go.” He tossed the remote aside and linked his fingers with hers on his stomach. “Best movie ever.”

  She looked at the screen and smiled. “The Princess Bride?”

  “It seemed fitting.”

  She snuggled into his side and rested her head on his chest. His heartbeat thudded against her ear, creating a soothing rhythm as she relished the warmth of his embrace. Lying here on the mound of pillows, watching a movie under the stars with the most charming, handsome man she’d ever met…she couldn’t think of a more perfect way to spend the evening.

  As the movie ended with the famous kiss scene, Sean turned to her and grinned. “Westley and Buttercup’s kiss was supposed to be the most passionate kiss of all time?”

  “According to the movie, it was.”

  He glided his fingers across her forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think our first kiss has them beat.”

  She scrunched her eyebrows. “Hmm…”

  “You disagree?”

  “I think I might need a reminder.”

  “As you wish.” With his hand behind her head, he guided her down onto the pillows. His lips grazed her neck, barely brushing her skin, teasing her with promises of things to come. The warmth of his breath seared her skin as it glided along her jawline, melting every solid part of her insides.

  When his lips met hers, a flood of heat flushed through her body, and he tangled his hands in her hair, kissing her with a fierceness she’d never felt before. Fireworks would pale in comparison to the explosions rocking through her core.

  He walked his fingers up her arm and started drumming them against her elbow. Was he trying to get her attention? She had been so caught up in the passion, her thoughts were a scattered mess. She pulled from the kiss to look at him, and he slid his hands from her hair.

  Both his hands.

  So what was on her…?

  “Ah! Cricket! Cricket!” She leapt to her feet and brushed the insect from her arm. It landed on a pillow and hopped into the grass as she tried to slow her racing heart. With her hand against her chest, she heaved in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “There was a cricket on my arm.”

  Laughing, Sean got up and pulled her into his arms. “You probably scared it more than it scared you.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I didn’t take you for the frightened of bugs type.”

  She rubbed her arm to smooth away the memory of its tiny legs scratching at her skin. “I’m not. It just startled me.”

  “Why don’t we go inside?”

  “I’m really not afraid of bugs.”

  “I know. But it’s getting chilly out here. Come on.” He led her up the porch steps and picked up the plates from the table.

  “Let me help you clean up.”

  “I’ve got it. You go inside and make yourself at home. It’ll only take a second.”

  She wandered through the kitchen into the formal dining room. A large cherry-wood table filled most of the space, but there was just enough room for a row of bookshelves to line one cream-colored wall. Stacks of drawing paper and sketchbooks occupied most of the shelf space, along with jars of what looked like special drawing pencils.

  Dishes clanked in the sink, and Sean’s footsteps sounded on the wood floor. “Ah, you found my drawing room.”

  “Why the formal dining room? You could turn one of the empty bedrooms into a st
udio.”

  He shrugged. “I like the light in here. I’m going to get the rest of the dishes inside.”

  “What’s in the box?” She pointed to an open cardboard box next to the bookshelf.

  “Just some old sketchbooks I’m planning to move to the attic. I’ve got way too many of them.”

  “Can I look at them?”

  “Be my guest.” He sauntered to the back door to finish cleaning up.

  She picked up the top sketchbook and flipped through the pages. Her own experience in art began and ended with the required classes she took in elementary school, but she could spot talent when she saw it. This particular book was filled with drawings of Garden District homes. She recognized a few of the sketches from her drive to his house. The amount of detail he put into each one made them so realistic, they could’ve been mistaken for photographs.

  Many of the drawings were black and white, but the ones he’d done in color were saturated in rich, vivid tones that seemed lifelike. His signature adorned the bottom of each drawing, along with a date. He’d sketched most of these over two years ago.

  She put the book on the table and pulled another one from the box. The first drawing in this one was of a woman with long brown hair and hazel eyes. She was beautiful, with long lashes and a delicate smile. The next page contained a sketch of the same woman, as did the following page and the one after that.

  A burning sensation tightened her chest, and she forced herself to stop grinding her teeth. She had no right to be jealous, but seeing drawing after drawing of the same woman bothered her. Who was she to him? The dates on the sketches ranged from three years prior to just over one year ago.

  She chewed her bottom lip. She didn’t want to look at these sketches, but her masochistic curiosity forced her to examine every one. The first few drawings were reminiscent of the other work Sean had done—rich in detail, realistic and precise. But the more recent the pictures were, the less detail they contained. Toward the end of the book, the woman was still recognizable, but her features were more generic, almost as if her image had faded from his memory. The last sketch was incomplete, like he got distracted and never came back to finish it.

  Sean stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I forgot that one was in there.”

  “Who is she?”

  He tightened his arms around her. “Courtney. She was my wife.”

  The burn of jealousy in her chest turned to a sharp pain. Why hadn’t he told her he’d been married? She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and stared at the last drawing. “Was?”

  “She died three years ago. Car accident.”

  The stabbing in her heart melted into the liquid heat of shame. “I’m so sorry.”

  He moved beside her and ran a hand over the incomplete image. “Thank you. It was a long time ago.”

  “We don’t have to talk about it.” She started to close the sketchbook, but he took both her hands in his and kissed them.

  “I don’t mind. And I’m sure you have questions.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Drawing his shoulders toward his ears, he inhaled a deep breath. “I don’t like to dwell on the past. It has no effect on the here and now.” He moved his hands to her hips, turning her toward him. “And right here, right now, I’m happy being with you.”

  “The drawings lose their detail.” She brushed her finger across the page. “And you never finished this one.”

  He glanced at the picture and returned his gaze to hers. His eyes were dark, so full of emotion, she could get lost in their depths. And trust. There was so much trust in his eyes, hers brimmed with tears. She blinked them back.

  “Drawing, for me, is a compulsion. When I get an image in my head, I have to put it on paper. When Courtney died…after she…” He sighed. “I dreamed of her a lot after she died. And then the dreams stopped, so I drew. It was how I coped with the loss. But as time passed, so did the pain. The need to draw her just wasn’t there anymore, and I realized I was drawing her out of habit rather than compulsion.”

  He tapped the unfinished drawing and flipped the sketchbook shut. “That was the day I realized I was ready to move on. I didn’t need to finish it.”

  “That was over a year ago.”

  “Yes, it was. And I have moved on, though my family and friends might tell you otherwise.”

  “They don’t believe you?”

  “I’ve been accused of not trying hard enough. Honestly, they were right. I wasn’t really trying at all.”

  “Oh. You haven’t dated?” Surely a man as attractive and charming as Sean had women fawning all over him.

  “Until you, I had been on exactly three first dates. I was never interested in a second.”

  “Why not?”

  He grinned and pulled her close, sliding his hands down to cup her butt. “I told you. I won’t settle for anything less than fireworks. I hadn’t felt them until you.”

  “I feel them too. Every time you touch me.”

  “Good. Let me bring in the TV, and then we can do a lot more touching.” He stroked the backs of his fingers down her cheek and picked up the sketchbook, tossing it into the box and closing the lid. “My newer stuff is here, if you’re interested.” He tapped a stack of sketchpads on a shelf and left the room.

  She grabbed the top two from the stack and looked through the first one. This book was filled with drawings of animals—mostly dogs and a few cats. Some of them had little jackets on that read “I’m adoptable.”

  He set the television on the floor and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Those are animals from the shelter we’re sponsoring this year. I walk the dogs through the Quarter, trying to help them get adopted.”

  “That’s sweet of you.” She flipped the page. “What’s the red stuff all over this dog? Is she bleeding?”

  He laughed and slid his arms around her waist, pressing his front to her back. “That’s Roxy, and she’s covered in ketchup. She’s been at the shelter a long time.” A hint of sadness tinged his voice. He cared about the dog.

  “Ketchup? Wait. Is she the reason you got in a fight with Maury’s hot dog stand?”

  “That’s her.” He closed the book and slid it onto the shelf. “Now about that touching I promised you.” He massaged her shoulders and pressed his lips to her neck.

  “Wait. Let me look at one more. I’m in awe of your talent.”

  “Drawing isn’t the only thing I’m good at.”

  “Just one more.” She opened the last book and froze. A woman with long red hair flowing in thick curls over her shoulders stared back at her. The eyes were a perfect shade of blue. The red sequined mask held every bit of detail she remembered. Her lips curved exactly right. Even the tiny freckle beneath her lower lip was in the perfect place. Sean had drawn her.

  She flipped to the next page and found another picture of herself in the mask. Her head was turned at a different angle, but she had the same playful smile on her lips. Her hand trembled as she ran a finger over the page and looked at the date.

  “You drew me the night we met?”

  “I couldn’t get you out of my mind.” His breath whispered against her ear, sending warm tingles down her spine.

  She turned to the next page and found another picture of herself, this time without the mask. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her lips were pursed in an expression that said “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “This was the night of the ghost tour. Was I that unpleasant?”

  He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “You weren’t unpleasant. Maybe a little stubborn.”

  She flipped back to a picture with the mask. “Why couldn’t you make me look happier, like in one of these?”

  “I draw what I see.”

  Turning to the next picture, she found herself in her white lab coat, a stethoscope draped around her neck and a shy smile on her lips. He’d captured the longing in her eyes perfectly, and the me
mories of the way she’d felt in that exam room made her shiver.

  “You’re very good.” Page after page was filled with pictures of her, each one more vivid and detailed than the next.

  “You don’t find it weird?”

  She closed the book and put it on the shelf. “I find it endearing. No one’s ever paid that much attention to me before.” She turned around to face him, and the smolder in his eyes took her breath away.

  “I’d like to pay some attention to you right now, if you don’t mind.” He pressed his lips to hers, coaxing them apart with his tongue as he slid his hands beneath her sweater. Cupping a breast in each hand, he teased her nipples through the fabric of her bra and trailed his lips down her neck and back up to find her mouth again.

  Heat pooled below her navel, and she ran her hands along the ripples of his stomach. Everything about this man was intriguing. His scent, his kiss, the way his strong hands felt against her bare skin. Her knees weakened, and she leaned against the table to steady herself.

  “Have I told you how good you look in red?” He clutched the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head. The sudden coolness of air against her bare skin made her shiver. Or maybe it was the desire in his eyes.

  “You’ve mentioned it.”

  He ran a finger along the edge of her bra. “Red lace. I like it. Is this a matching set?”

  Good lord, his voice was sexy. The deep masculine tone was enough to make her clothes fall off on their own.

  “It is.”

  He arched an eyebrow and unbuttoned her jeans, folding the flaps down so the red lace peeked from beneath. Clutching her hips, he inhaled deeply and slowly dropped to his knees. “Emily, you’re killing me.” He worked her pants over her hips and slid them down her legs. “You realize you’re the first person I’ve made love to in three years, don’t you?”

  “I…” She didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t wait for one.

  He slipped off her shoes and helped her step out of her jeans. “It should be against the law for someone to look this good. Put these back on.” He held out her heels and helped her step into them.

  Sitting back on his feet, he raked his gaze up and down her body. “Beautiful.” He stood, still not touching her, though his eyes seemed to caress every inch.