A Girl, a Guy, and a Ghost

by Patricia Mason

  “You can’t possibly be trusted in a place like this,” he continued.

  Trusted? His shining armor became a bit tarnished.

  “There are too many possible calamities that are just waiting to happen to you in a place like this.”

  Make that completely rusted-out armor. As if this was her fault.

  “This guy, for example, has the key to your room.”

  Now that argument packed a lot of persuasion.

  “You’re going to stay with me at my house.”

  Oh, her gallant white knight in action. Ry pulled her into his arms as if he had just snatched her from the edge of a cliff. He hugged her close for a few seconds and then pushed her to arm’s length.

  He cradled her shoulders gently, smoothed the hair back behind each ear and caressed a cheek with his fingertips as he gazed into her eyes. “You can sleep on my sofa.”

  Sofa?

  She pondered the sofa comment while Ry pulled the door of the motel open.

  “Come on, Giselle,” he said as he reached for her and pushed her in front of him through the opening.

  “She’s checking out of room 101,” he called back. “We’ll get her things and leave the key in the room.”

  “Yeah. Whatever,” Giselle heard Pimply Face say as the motel door drifted shut.

  Sofa? Wanton Vixen Giselle, who had somehow managed to escape lockup, said. He wants you to sleep on a friggin’ sofa? What kind of rat offers you his sofa after you’ve had sex with him? It’s insulting.

  Rational Angel Giselle replied, The sofa is what a gentleman would offer and what a lady would expect.

  Lady? I don’t see no lady around here. Wanton Vixen chortled.

  Shut up, Giselle told her silently. She’d go with Rational Angel Giselle on this one. The sofa was fine. Of course it was fine. Just fine. Well, it was! Yeah. Sure. And wasn’t that a dog flying over her head through the evening, Savannah sky?

  * * * * *

  Giselle fumed all the way back to the motel room.

  Sofa indeed!

  She seethed as she put the old-fashioned key in the lock. No newfangled cardkey system for this classic establishment.

  Sofa. She’d give him a sofa. Right up his ass.

  Giselle twisted the key and it wouldn’t turn.

  “Dammit,” she grumbled, gripping the handle with one hand and ferociously wrenching the key with the other.

  Giselle stamped a foot. She wanted to kick the door down. No. Correction. She wanted to kick Ry down. Him and his sofa.

  “Careful, you’ll break it off in the lock,” Ry said from where he hovered over her shoulder.

  “I know what I’d like to break off,” Giselle muttered.

  “What did you say?”

  She felt his breath on her neck and stopped what she was doing. “Back off, buddy,” she said, slamming her hip into him.

  Ry stepped away throwing his hands up. “Sor—ry. Just trying to help.”

  “Yeah, right. You’re oh so helpful.”

  His eyes widened at her tone and probably the flames shooting out her eye sockets. “What did I do?” he asked.

  “Oh nothing. You’re perfect,” Giselle said with extreme sarcasm before trying the lock again. Taking a calming breath, she jiggled the key in the lock as she turned the knob. The tumblers moved and the lock sprang free. She twisted the knob and pushed the door open, giving Ry a triumphant smile.

  Preceding him inside, Giselle found that the room had an even frostier tinge. She could almost see her breath.

  “This is worse than I thought it would be,” Ry remarked as he glanced around the room. His gaze settled on the hideous orange and brown quilted bedspread that matched the brown shag carpeting.

  Giselle opened the top of the suitcase resting on the stand in the corner and took out a toiletry bag.

  “Yeah, thank goodness you’re going to let me use your sofa,” she said with deliberate saccharine sweetness as she walked toward the bathroom.

  “You’re welcome to use it for as long as you want,” Ry said solemnly.

  Before she lost it, Giselle stomped the remaining four steps and closed the bathroom door behind her, careful to prevent it from slamming. It wouldn’t do to show him how his sofa comments were affecting her.

  The bathroom was tiny. A small basin set in a dilapidated cabinet stood against one wall with a three-square unframed mirror above it. The dingy illumination came from one light in a beige, can-style fixture mounted above the mirror. The toilet was on the opposite wall, barely two steps away, next to the bathtub-shower on the back wall. The square tiles utilized for the flooring, and that ran three-quarters of the way up the wall of the shower, had at one time been white but now had a grimy grayish tinge.

  “That aggravating creep!” Giselle walked to the sink and pulled her toothbrush out of the cup near the tap where she’d propped it earlier. She threw it into the bag. The mouthwash was next. Then she started gathering up her face cream and makeup.

  “Sofa,” she grumbled. Was she suddenly so unattractive? The mirror above the basin revealed a reflection of a beautiful, sexy woman. Okay, maybe not beautiful, but she was pretty. Well, maybe if not pretty, she was passable. Crap, she was a mess.

  She ran the brush through her curls before tossing it in the bag. Her hair bounced with new vibrancy. Maybe she should refresh her makeup. Giselle reached into the bag to take out the mascara wand from where she’d just tossed it, when she heard something stir in the room.

  Giselle froze. The sound of something sliding against the tile floor came from the area of the toilet behind her. Omigod, what was that? Barely breathing, Giselle caught a glimpse of a movement in the mirror.

  A sideways glance in the mirror brought the area into view.

  Couldn’t be. She blinked. Then blinked again. It was still there. A snake. A slimy, creepy snake lay coiled on the grimy floor between the toilet and the bathtub. A snake that was probably less than two feet away from her legs.

  Giselle had no familiarity with snakes and she didn’t know which were venomous and which weren’t. This one had a tan-coloring with dark brown hourglass-shaped markings.

  Sheer terror strangled her and she gripped the toiletry bag so tight her knuckles whitened. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t barely even breathe.

  To Giselle’s horror, the snake lifted its head, the beady black eyes fixed on her. The nasty creature seemed to thicken and puff as it took on an aggressive stance. Its tail came up and rattled. Giselle smelled a foul, musky odor. Was the snake about to strike?

  Frozen. Paralyzed. Her jaw locked. Ry. Help me! Giselle screamed in her head. Snake. Snake. Snake. Snake.

  “Giselle?” Ry rapped lightly and called to her from the other side of the door.

  The noise seemed to incense the snake. It stretched its neck and the rattling quickened.

  She was going to die in this shabby, without-chic motel.

  Giselle concentrated on transmitting a psychic message to Ry. For the love of Pete don’t come barreling in here. Danger. Snake.

  The knob turned bit by bit and then the door crept open a crack.

  Ry peeked in. “Where is it?” he asked in a whisper.

  Giselle’s eyes shifted to the corner and Ry followed her gaze to the snake. His face went stiff. Oh no, even Ry was scared.

  The fright in her eyes must have transmitted itself to him. His gaze met hers and he smiled reassuringly. He mouthed something. She read his lips. Stay calm.

  Yeah, easy for him to say.

  The rattling behind her got louder.

  The door widened slowly. The snake began to sway back and forth.

  When the door was completely open, Ry stood still in the gap, holding the bedspread in one hand. He slowly reached out and grasped Giselle’s arm. Erupting into action, in one motion he launched the heavy spread over the top of the snake and yanked Giselle out of the bathroom. He pulled the door shut so quickly, Giselle had no chance to see what happened to the snake. Tuc
ked in Ry’s arms, she only knew that she was safely on one side of the door and the viper was on the other.

  Giselle wrapped her arms around Ry and snuggled into his warm chest. She felt the wild thump of his heart under her ear. Her own still raced.

  “You’re forgiven for the sofa,” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That was a copperhead. I don’t see how it could have gotten into that bathroom on its own.” His breath was chugging as if he’d run a mile. “Looks like maybe this is another attempt on your life.”

  “Yeah.”

  She tapped him lightly on the chest and leaned away from him. “Hey,” she said with a smile. “You got my psychic message.”

  His brows furrowed and he grimaced. “Nonsense. I didn’t get any psychic message. What are you talking about?”

  ”About the snake. I was concentrating on danger and snake, and you heard me.”

  He shook his head. “No, you said it out loud.”

  Did she? “I don’t think so.”

  Ry released her so abruptly and she stumbled.

  While he phoned the desk clerk and reported the additional guest in room 101, Giselle crammed the toiletry bag into the suitcase and zipped it shut. The snake could have whatever she’d left in the bathroom.

  She could have sworn she didn’t say anything about the snake.

  * * * * *

  Back at Ry’s house, Giselle used the master bedroom’s en suite bathroom to prepare for her date with the Vampire Lester. But this time when she emerged from the bathroom, she didn’t find Ry waiting for her. He’d been a perfect gentleman since they’d arrived. Dammit.

  His courtesy gave Giselle a chance to dress. She threw on a short, slinky black sheath dress with high heels and silver hoop earrings. After putting on makeup, which she pronounced tastefully minimal, Giselle snooped around Ry’s house. Okay, the snooping wasn’t good etiquette but it was irresistible.

  A half an hour later, when Giselle entered the kitchen, Ry stood at the counter with the refrigerator door open. He poured a glass of sweet tea from a pitcher into a glass. Another glass of tea sat on the counter in front of him.

  “Hey!” Giselle griped. “You’ve got at least two extra bedrooms in this place. How come you offered me the sofa?”

  Ry replaced the pitcher in the refrigerator and offered a glass to her. “I don’t want you to be too comfortable.”

  Mr. Meanie. “That’s not nice.” Giselle accepted the glass and took a sip of the cold, sweet brew.

  He reached up and wound a red curl around one of his fingers. “I figure the sofa doesn’t offer as much competition as the guest room might. I’m hoping to lure you from the sofa into my bed.”

  Hmmm. That’s nice. That could happen. “That’s not going to happen.” Her voice wavered as she said it. Giselle took another sip of the tea, hiding a smile on the rim of the glass.

  “Uh-huh.” He took a sip from his glass. Was he hiding a smile of his own? He blinked and looked her up and down. “What is this?”

  Giselle choked on the tea. “What do you mean?” She thought she looked pretty darn good in this outfit. Sexy but not sluttish.

  “Oh no. You’re not wearing that, are you?” He walked around her in a three–hundred-and-sixty-degree circle, all the while continuing an up-and-down examination. “Oh hell no.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” She squeaked it. It was a blow to think Ry didn’t find her attractive in this dress. After all, she’d worn it for him. Oh, wait a minute. She’d worn this dress for Lester, hadn’t she? Ooops. “Doesn’t it look okay?” Would she live through a critique?

  “Okay?” Ry snorted, and Giselle nodded. “It looks too okay. You look too fantastic. You look too sexy.”

  She could live with that.

  “No way are you wearing that for Lester,” Ry demanded as he moved to lean on the edge of the kitchen table.

  That was just precious. Ry in a fit of jealousy. He was so cute. But she wouldn’t take orders. “I am wearing this. We want Lester to spill his guts. I don’t want him thinking about keeping secrets. I want his mind on something else.”

  “Oh, I think his mind will definitely be on something else, but I don’t like what his mind will be on when he’s spilling. Plus, I’m not sure I would like exactly what he would be spilling on that dress.”

  She couldn’t keep the laughter from erupting. “Ry, I can’t believe you said something like that. You’re no gentleman.”

  “Even though you’re a lady, I never said I was a gentleman.”

  That’s right, he hadn’t.

  “I don’t even want to be a gentleman when I see you dressed like that.” His voice had taken on low and serious tone. Raspy. His eyes met hers unwaveringly. No teasing smile lit up his face now.

  “All I can think is that you’re mine and I don’t want to share you.”

  What he’d said was probably a line. But as lines went, it was a pretty good one. Besides, she wanted him too.

  Remember what happened this morning, Rational Angel Giselle said. But she said it in Giselle’s deaf ear. Giselle and the wanton vixen inside her were one now. She couldn’t remember what happened this morning. She couldn’t remember what happened an hour ago. Something in her had connected with something in him. Something that recognized him as belonging to her, and she had to claim him.

  Giselle moved toward Ry in what she hoped was an alluring saunter and not reminiscent of a streetwalker. From the look in Ry’s eyes as she approached, the walk had the desired effect. She continued until she had pressed herself against him. She slid her hands down his thighs, and then around to clutch his behind. His male scent filled her senses. His muscular chest, temptingly close, just inches from her lips through the opening of his white shirt.

  She stretched onto tiptoes to nip at his stubbly chin and the cold condensation from the glass in her hand dripped onto his chest. She licked the droplet from a spot a few inches below his Adam’s apple. She moved upward and tasted the fruit. His eyes drifting shut, Ry moaned. Mmmm, yummy… She set the glass on the counter and concentrated on Ry.”

  Unbuttoning his shirt, she pulled it free of the jeans and pushed the shirt from his shoulders. She licked one brown berrylike nipple. More yummy fruit. Ry cried out another low moan. Tormenting him sweetly, her tongue swirled and pulled.

  Giselle felt him lift the skirt of her dress as he crushed her mouth with his. They stumbled together a few steps and Ry thrust her back against the refrigerator. The stainless steel surface felt cool against her backside, her thong offering no protection. One strong thigh moved between hers as Ry continued to explore her mouth with his. Clutching his shoulders, she clung as if he were the only stable place in a storm. But it was her emotions that were the storm.

  Giselle felt Ry’s fingers at the edge of her skimpy underwear. They delved beneath. His fingers moved knowingly. She would have sworn bolts of electricity arced through her.

  “Omigod, Ry! What are you doing to me?” she gasped.

  “If you don’t know, I’ll have to keep doing it until you do,” he said hoarsely.

  “I don’t know if I’ll survive much more.”

  “If you pass out I’ll do resuscitation. I’m really good at mouth-to-mouth, and mouth to other things.”

  She gasped as his fingers moved inside her again. “I bet you are.”

  Ry backed away just far enough to strip the thong down her legs. When it dropped around her ankles, Giselle stepped one foot out and kicked the thong away with the other, impatient to be rid of any small barrier keeping her from Ry.

  “Take off your pants,” she said.

  “Oh Ry, that feels… Omigod. Unbelievable.”

  He turned Giselle before pushing her facedown on the kitchen table.

  “Ry…”

  “Shhhhh.” He lifted the hem of the skirt onto her back, baring her buttocks. He was silent for a few seconds before leaning his body over hers. “You do look fine from this angle,
” he said, running his hand over her hip and then cupping one cheek.

  His words thrilled her heart and thrilled her body. They tugged at her soul as much as they tugged at her core.

  Widen your legs,” he commanded.

  Giselle quickly complied.

  When he pressed himself to her, his length jabbed at her through his pants.

  The sensations caused by the rough denim fabric against her bareness… Abrasive. Such fantastic friction. Omigod. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Do you like that?” he asked, rubbing himself against her.

  “Oh yes,” she said.

  Abruptly he pulled away. The loss of his touch against her was unbearable. But fortunately he turned her. Face-to-face, he clutched her to him in a hungry kiss.

  As he moved to press her down, she stopped him.

  “My turn to be on top,” she said as she twisted from beneath him and pushed Ry back onto the kitchen table. Giselle grasped the tab of the zipper of his jeans and the table lurched beneath them.

  The table skidded on the tile and the two of them tumbled to the floor with Giselle sprawled over Ry.

  Neither of them took notice of the fall. Giselle’s hand returned to his zipper and pulled downward. The hard length of his erection sprang free of the garment. Her fingertips brushed the length of his shaft in a long caress and it bobbed in response.

  Ry gasped and then moaned. Then he fumbled in his pocket and produced a condom package. “Looking for this?”

  “Hey. I think I should feel insulted. You’re taking me for granted,” Giselle said half jokingly. She didn’t want him to see how vulnerable she was to him.

  “No.” His gaze was serious as his eyes met hers. “My good luck charm.”

  Good answer.

  He pulled off his jeans and kicked them to the corner of the room.

  Giselle took the foil package from him and made a tortuous production of fitting its contents on Ry. He seemed to enjoy the process, although his face had fixed into a grimace by the time she completed her task.

  “Am I hurting you?” she teased.

  “Get down here, you,” he gritted out. Giselle happily complied by climbing on top of him. One of his hands massaged her breast through the dress, the other clutched the bare skin of her hip. Moving on him, slow and long, she undulated against him. She rode him, feeling herself building to an achingly sweet release. As Giselle cried out, convulsing, Ry groaned and arched with his own completion.