by Deanna Chase
Charlie shook her head. “I don’t think so. At the time he was still working for some financial company. He just turned all the reins over to Pyper. It’s the best thing that ever happened around here. She’s a great boss.”
I nodded.
“But then a few months later she opened The Grind. I didn’t know it at the time, but the building next door was part of the deal.”
I’d been focused on the bit of information pertaining to Kane and him not being the strip club lord I had imagined. I felt as if a weight had lifted off my heart, and I smiled.
“What?” Charlie asked
“Nothing. I’m just glad things worked out.”
***
The imprint of Kane’s kisses lingered on my swollen tender lips. I stretched, enjoying the ache of well-used muscles. What the hell? Talk about realistic. I must have acted out a majority of the dream in my sleep. My temperature spiked as a few memorable scenes reeled through my brain. Thank goodness I didn’t have a roommate. At least, not a live one.
I scanned the room for any intruding ghosts. All was quiet and apparition-free.
Lying back, I ran my hands the length of my naked body, still tingling with tiny aftershocks from the wicked ways it felt like Kane had touched me. Yep. Definitely the best, most realistic dream ever.
As intense as dreaming of Kane had become, what I found more surprising was how I felt at the beginning of my dreams when I was with Mr. Sexy. I felt safe, loved even. I knew it should have been creepy, considering the ghost factor, but it wasn’t. It was…comforting, until he vanished and Kane took over. Dreams of Kane were anything but comforting. Intense. Hot. Naughty. The mental image of Kane, bare in only his skin, sent new heat to all the right places.
There was only one thing to do. Take another cold shower. The thought had me shivering, and I opted for coffee instead.
As I sipped my java and checked email, my phone rang. No one called me this early. Ever. Not even Gwen when she could somehow tell I was awake. Crap, this could only be bad news.
“Hello,” I said cautiously after recognizing the number to The Grind.
“Thank God. Jade, it’s Pyper. Holly just got sick, and I had to send her home. Is there any way you can come work with me through the lunch shift?”
Bad news, definitely. If I worked today that would be six days in a row at the café.
“Jade? You there?” Pyper asked.
“Yeah.” I sighed. “I’ll be down as soon as I can.”
The morning flew by in a blur, with long lines of caffeine-deprived tourists and locals alike. Pyper and I worked straight through the morning, and when she finally told me to take a break I almost kissed her with relief.
With my calves screaming from standing in front of the espresso machine, I made a quick getaway to the back room. Unfortunately the one office chair was piled high with files and invoices. I groaned and opted to sit on the much less cluttered countertop. Pyper really needed to hire a professional organizer.
I dug into my daily muffin, washed it down with an iced latte and leaned against the cupboards with my eyes closed. My back ached. I made a mental date with my tub.
The swinging door to the front of the café creaked. “Just a few more minutes, I promise,” I said.
“Take as long as you need,” a deep, husky voice replied.
My eyes flew open, spotting Kane moving toward me. Where had he come from? I jolted up out of my slouch, preparing to leap off the counter, but Kane blocked me, making it impossible. His eyes roamed over my body, as if taking inventory. My stomach fluttered, and I said a silent thanks I was sitting when my knees turned to jelly. Damn.
“Can I help you?” I asked in a stiff, formal voice.
“Sure, any time.” He moved in close.
“Uh, I mean, do you need something? Now?”
“Yes, I do.” He leaned in with his right arm holding his weight on the shelf over my head.
I tried to form the word what, but as his face came closer I lost all rational thought. Wanting to taste him, to feel his lips on mine, I closed the distance between us and was rewarded with the slightest brush of a kiss. Kane’s warm lips lingered on mine while his free hand caressed my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. The kiss swiftly turned heated as our lips parted with urgency. He tasted faintly of mocha and cinnamon. I pressed closer, anxious for more.
My mind stopped working altogether, and I let myself get lost in the delicious intensity of his expert mouth. Unaware of how it happened, my arms and legs somehow wrapped themselves around his waist. He pressed his hips closer, pushing me up against the cupboards.
His excitement became apparent in more than the bulge pressing against my jeans. Intense need, exactly as I dreamt the night before, took over my senses. My blood boiled, and I ached to feel him, all of him. Desperate to regain control, I pulled away.
He took a step back, smiling a devilish grin. “That wasn’t exactly what I meant, but thanks all the same.” He held a sleeve of coffee cups in his right hand. “I stopped in for a second, and Pyper asked me to get these.”
I tilted my head and spotted the inventory of extra cups.
Shit.
Stunned by my recent actions, I sat silent as he gazed at me.
“Kane! What are you doing back there?” Pyper called from out front.
He looked toward the door and then back at me. “We’ll finish this later.”
My breath caught as I started to tremble. That’s what I was afraid of.
***
“Ouch! Son of a bitch,” I yelped.
“Jade, are you all right?” Casey, the studio manager, called from my door.
“Fine. Just burned my arm. Wasn’t paying attention.” I’d been replaying that kiss in my mind. Again.
Sighing, I tossed the glass piece I’d been working on in a bowl of water and reached for the aloe plant. I hissed as I dabbed it on.
“Careful,” Casey said then went back out front.
I stared at the three mandrels in my water bucket. Resigned, I turned the kiln off. I wasn’t getting anywhere. I’d planned on spending most of the afternoon in the studio working on a few orders. Plus, beadmaking usually was a great distraction. Not today, though. I just couldn’t get Kane, that kiss and the dreams out of my mind.
Giving up, I decided to run errands instead and headed for the market.
An hour later I set the grocery bags on my counter. My pants started to sing, causing me to jump. While shoving perishables in the fridge, I grabbed my phone and immediately dumped a bag of oranges on the floor. “Hello?”
“Hey there, stranger,” a masculine voice said as I scrambled to gather the rolling fruit.
“Ian?”
“Yep. Ready for tonight?”
Cradling the oranges in my shirt, I stood and eyed the calendar pinned to the wall. I hadn’t noted any plans. “Tonight?”
“Dinner? The ghost readings report?” He prompted.
“Of course!” Idiot! How could I forget? Thoughts of Kane, his lips, and that hard body, had rattled my brain.
“Great.” He sounded relieved. “I just called to find out if seven is okay?”
“Sure, sounds good. See you then.”
Chapter 9
After a shower, reapplication of my makeup and a thorough blow dry, I smiled in satisfaction. My strawberry-blonde hair had just the right amount of wave, making it appear sophisticated, instead of my usual messy-casual look. It had been a long time since I’d been out on an actual date.
I checked my watch. Still a half hour until Ian arrived. With time to kill, I settled in at my desk and went to work listing new beads in my Etsy store.
I’d gotten two new items uploaded when the knocking started. “Come in, it’s open.” The door creaked. “Is it seven already?”
“No. What happens at seven?”
Startled, I whipped around, knocking my elbow on the edge of my bead tray and sending all my glass creations scattering to the floor. “Damn it!” As they roll
ed across the hardwood I dropped to my knees, gathering as many as I could before they disappeared under the couch.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Kane crouched, his face now eye level as he helped me. A faint trace of stubble shadowed his jaw.
I fisted one hand, resisting the sudden urge to caress the roughness. “What are you doing here?” I stood and dumped the beads back in the tray.
“What’s happening at seven?”
“Huh?” An image of our last encounter at The Grind made my brain short circuit.
“You were expecting someone at seven?” He rose and handed me the last of the runaway beads.
Right. “Ian’s coming with results.” I walked to my fridge, searching for something to do. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Sure. Guinness?” He sat, making himself comfortable. “You weren’t going to call me?”
“Why?” I passed him the beer, grabbed one for myself and took the other end of the sofa.
He glanced at my high-heeled feet then looked at the ceiling. “To meet with Ian.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t realize you wanted in on the meeting.”
“It is my building.”
“Okay, okay. You’re here now. Stick around, and you can get the results. By the way, why are you here?”
“Just being neighborly,” he said with a wry smile.
“Oh?” I wiped my sweaty hand on the old fabric of the arm rest. “Are you my neighbor this evening?”
He nodded, his smile transforming into a grin. “Looks like it.”
My heart sped up as I imagined him shirtless in bed. Last night’s dream flashed in my mind. I swallowed and studied my beer.
“I stay over a few nights a week, when I work late.” His gaze dropped to my lips. Longing and anticipation swirled around me in a dense fog, pulling me toward him as if I’d been lassoed.
My throat went dry. “I know, you told me.”
A light film of sweat broke out on my neck as he licked his lips, leaned in and whispered, “Jade.”
A rapid knock on the door broke my gaze. Jumping up, I took four steps and opened the door. Ian stood leaning against the door jam, holding a pink, long-stemmed rose. He held it out. “Good evening.”
“Uh, hi, Ian. Thanks.” I took the rose and stepped back, revealing my house guest. Biting my lip, I waved him in. “You know Kane.”
Ian nodded. “Hello.”
Eyeing the rose, Kane raised one eyebrow and leaned back on the couch. “Someone let you in the building?”
A good question, since my buzzer didn’t go off.
“I ran into Pyper out front,” Ian said.
“Kane just stopped by,” I explained as I rooted around for a vase. Coming up empty, I poured out my beer and used the bottle instead. I set the rose next to my computer and buried my nose in the blossom, inhaling its sweet aroma. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Kane stood, staring at me for a long moment. Then he walked to the door. “Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude.” He was gone before I could reply.
“What was that about?” Ian asked.
I shrugged. “No idea.” Other than Kane realizing Ian and I had a date. I suppressed a sigh.
“So,” Ian paused. “Anything new to report about your ghost?”
“No.”
He studied me and raised his brow in question. “No new dreams?”
“More dreams—same content.” I’d already told him they were of the sexual nature. He didn’t need anything else. “The dreams are harmless anyway, so I guess it isn’t too important.” Except it was creepy to think of him invading my dreams, especially since while I was having them, I wasn’t creeped out at all. The whole thing was twisted.
“They might be an important clue as to why he’s here. Would it be too awkward to tell me about them?”
I frowned. How could sex dreams be interpreted in any other way than wanting sex? “Can we get to that later?” I stalled. “I’m dying to know the results you got.”
“Sure.” Ian’s face lit up as he sat down on the floor and spread files all around him.
I laughed. “Very professional.”
He grinned. “Take a look at this.” He handed me a photo of my apartment.
“What am I looking at?” I peered at it, seeing nothing unusual.
“Now look at this one.”
I gasped. “Oh, is that him?” The same scene reflected back at me, only this time I was in the photo with a silver outline of what looked like a person standing next to me.
“I’d say so. Here are the rest.” He handed me a small stack. “Remember I told you all we got were some EMF readings here in your apartment?”
I nodded.
“I’d sent this out to be developed and forgot to pick it up. The digital didn’t capture what the manual camera did, so we thought we didn’t have a shadow image. But now we have the proof. Isn’t that great?”
All of the photos without me in them were imageless, and all of the ones with me had a silvery outline image. “I guess.” I frowned. “Does this mean he follows me around?”
“Maybe.” Ian passed a chart of numbers to me. “From the photos it looks like he might, but we have no way to tell if he leaves the apartment or not. It’s possible he has more energy when you’re around, causing the outline.” That scenario didn’t make me feel any better.
He pulled out a chart. “See here?”
Two columns of numbers were lined up side by side. “Uh-huh.”
“Look at how the numbers don’t seem to change much.”
“Okay.” I had no idea where he was going with this.
“The numbers are a reading from an EMF detector. It reads the Electromagnetic Field. We use it to pick up paranormal activity. Do you follow?” Ian glanced up.
“I think so. These numbers are telling you there’s paranormal activity?”
“Yes. That’s the theory anyway. These numbers here—” he pointed again, “—are in the range of four to six. That’s the area we look for. These charts are the readings from before you entered the room and after. See how they don’t change a great deal?”
“So they didn’t change a lot, which means he was likely here but stronger when I entered the room?”
“Exactly.” Ian beamed, no doubt pleased I’d caught on.
“That’s better than the alternative. I’m not crazy about being stalked by a ghost.”
Ian shrugged. “It’s possible he does follow you sometimes. These are just the readings we got that day.”
“Not what I wanted to hear. I’m going to assume he stays here in the building.” It’s what I wanted to believe and let’s face it; the scientific readings hardly seemed, well, scientific. “Did you get any interesting readings in the club?”
Ian started bouncing on his heels, going from excited to downright giddy. “Oh, yeah. Look at these.”
More photos. Again, pictures of the empty club, then pictures of my silver shadow and me.
“Now look at these.” He handed me a third stack.
“Wow, that’s weird. Pyper has a shadow too, but hers is a darker gray. Is that a different ghost?”
Ian shrugged. “I’d bet it is the same one.”
“Even though the outline is a different color?”
“Yes, ghosts take their energy from those around them, so he would appear different depending on whose energy he’s feeding from.”
I nodded. Being in the position to feel and sometimes see people’s energy, I perfectly understood his explanation. “Okay, but why would he be following both of us around?”
Ian shook his head. “Good question. Maybe he thinks she’s sexy.”
A sudden bolt of jealously struck me. I’d come to think of him as my ghost. He invaded my dreams with love and devotion radiating off him each night. So why was he following Pyper around? I knew it sounded crazy, but his emotions were doing a number on me.
Snap out of it, Jade. This is
a ghost you’re thinking about. Just a dream lover. A very sexy dream lover.
Kane’s face flashed in my mind, and suddenly I felt like an idiot. Here I was sitting with Ian, my date, and I was jealous of Pyper over a ghost and thinking of Kane.
I put the whole thing out of my mind. “All right, that’s enough ghost talk for now. You ready for dinner?” I asked.
Ian checked his watch. “Yep, our reservation is in twenty minutes.” He got up and held a hand out to me.
***
“You brought me here because it’s haunted?” I sipped from my wine glass and looked around Muriel’s, the famous restaurant Ian had brought me to.
“You haven’t heard the story?”
“No.” I glanced over my shoulder as if I expected a ghost to appear.
Ian laughed. “A lot of the restaurants are said to be haunted. It’s unavoidable with the sordid history of New Orleans.”
“I bet,” I said. “Have you done scientific measurements on any of them?”
“I’d love to, but no, I haven’t had the opportunity.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in. “When I choose a restaurant I always pick one rumored to be haunted, hoping for a sighting.”
A shiver ran up my spine. That was the last thing I wanted after my recent experiences. “Do you ever see any?”
“Nothing definitive, but there have been a few occasions that made me wonder.” Ian’s eyes got big and sparkled with excitement.
“Ever see anything here?” I bit my lip and glanced around again.
“No, but I love coming to check it out. It’s said the guy who built this house lost it in a poker game. Before he turned his home over, he hung himself here. People say he still haunts the place. I’d love to get a glimpse of him.” Ian craned his neck, studying the exposed inner courtyard.
“See anything?”
“No. Not yet.” He twisted around to check behind him toward the front lobby.
I set my almost empty wine glass down and signaled to the waiter for more. Great. Just what I needed. A ghost hunting exposition. A small sigh escaped my lips.
When the waiter came back, I had him leave the bottle.
Ian spent the entire meal giving me a verbal ghost tour of the supposed hauntings in the French Quarter. By the time dessert was offered I’d had enough. It was a rare evening when I wasn’t tempted by cheesecake. But I didn’t want to continue watching Ian crane his neck, waiting for something unusual to happen. People were starting to stare.