The kiss was a force that rocked her where she stood, wiping out all good intentions, all the mental tasks she had listed. She was intensely aware of where he touched her and of where she longed for him to touch her. Every inch of her ached to be stroked by him, yearned to lie close to him in that wide, soft bed that called to her just two paces away.
He lifted her against him and his heat burned through her thin shirt and the denim of her jeans, seducing, overwhelming. The strength of his erection pushed against the mound of her pussy, begging her to strip naked.
She gave a low murmur deep in her throat. Her hands seemed to move instinctively with no conscious control from her brain. She took hold of the hem of her shirt and pulled it up. He released her long enough to let her tug it over her head and then his hands were on the fastener of her jeans.
In rapid movements he stripped her completely and shed the last of his clothing. Without the warmth of his body clamped to hers, she was left cold and aching for a few brief moments, moisture pooling between her thighs. She would do anything to feel him press against her again, have him relieve the pressure that was building low in her abdomen.
He offered his hand in a strangely Old World gesture and drew her toward the bed. With her hand in his, she lay upon the bed and in a heartbeat he was over her, straddling her, creating a shock wave of desire as his cock skimmed her molten flesh.
She reached up, lost in wonder at the feel of his skin, breathing in his scent, feeling the power in his shoulder muscles.
“I want you,” she said simply, honestly, meeting his gaze and spread her legs, inviting him. She had never wanted anything more.
“You have me.” He leaned over her, his eyes still on hers, moving gentle fingers from her rib cage upward to her arms, tracing their length, pulling them above her head as his mouth found hers again.
Her fingers threaded into his hair, pulling him tighter against her and she writhed beneath him.
His lips slowly left hers and he burrowed his face against her belly and teased her navel with his tongue.
She loved the feel of his mouth on her belly. Maybe a ring would be new and exciting, she thought. But before she could think any more about what she might do later, the pressure of his lips, his tongue, his mouth grew almost more than she could bear. Then she felt his hands between her thighs. A gentle touch that made her quiver. A sure touch that made her let out a cry as she shot into a world of sensations that was pure agony. She bucked beneath him as the climax rocketed through her, gripping her with an intensity she had never imagined.
She clung to him, convulsed beneath him. As climax ripped through her yet again she trembled, helpless, barely aware of anything around her except the hardness of him inside her, the weight of his body over hers.
Chapter Six
Pierce ran his hand lightly over the length of her arm. She lay as tightly curled against him as she’d been in the narrow cot back at the old house. But this was from choice not necessity. Her hair teased the nakedness of his chest, her subtle perfume weaving in and around his senses.
So much of what she said and did seemed strange to him. During the daylight she was the teacher, he the pupil. But in bed she was silk in his arms, sweet-smelling and velvety smooth. In bed she was the learner.
He had known many women back in his real lifetime and some had been voluptuous, sensual and demanding. But none had shown that heady mix of carnal lust and sweet vulnerability that he found in Jane.
She stirred against him and he touched the top of her head with his lips. She murmured in contentment and he felt an ache of desire deep inside and a new emotion he had not felt before and which he did not recognize.
New feelings, new sights, new sounds in this world of Jane’s. He supposed he could have been brought back by anyone who might have happened to touch him, not that many people ever saw a ghost, nor if they did were they inclined to touch one, even by accident. But he had been touched by sweet, hesitant Plain Jane. He frowned. How had she come to call herself by that name? She was anything but plain. And when the light of desire was in her eyes, the flush of love upon her cheeks, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen…
His eyes had grown accustomed to the dimness and he picked out the furniture which was made of something that looked like wood but was shiny and hard to the touch. He was used to the warmth of oak or pine under his fingertips. Jane had said something about plastic…
He had a lot to learn and to get used to in this bewildering new world where she had brought him. He’d traveled a bit and knew enough to wait until he’d figured things out to size up a situation. That would be his strategy now.
He stretched his legs. God, it felt good to be flesh and blood again. And as for the everlasting reenactment of the murder scene… He thought he knew how an actor must feel on the hundredth night of the same play, the same words, the same actions…
Jane had saved him from that and plunged him into a new adventure. It didn’t look as if there would be any choice in whether or not he stayed, even if he wanted to leave, so he would learn as fast as he could. With Jane’s help.
Jane’s fingers were still trembling, the nerves weak and lax in the lingering aftermath of the volcanic eruption that had invaded her whole being. After their shower, she managed to fasten her buttons and zip up her pants in a way that she hoped looked nonchalant and normal.
Their first stop was at the bank where she drew out some cash. Leaving the car in the parking lot, they walked to a men’s clothing store. No one in the town, especially in summer, would dream of wearing a suit. Already a couple of people had cast a puzzled look at Pierce’s tweeds and white shirt. She had to buy him some casual pants, lightweight shirts and more suitable shoes.
Inside the store that carried mainly outdoor clothing, she stopped by the racks of colored shirts. Pierce ran his hand along the hangers.
“Will they fit?” he asked doubtfully.
“I don’t see why not. Let me see, I think you’d take a large.” She ran her eye over his frame, trying not to think of what was hidden beneath the clothes, and pulled out a blue and gray checked shirt. She held it against him.
“Can I help you?”
Jane turned to the young man behind her. “Just wondering about sizes,”
“I know my measurements.” Pierce rattled off a string of numbers, including inside leg.
The assistant nodded and searched the racks.
“I’ve never bought anything ready-made before,” Pierce whispered in her ear.
Before she could say anything more, the young man turned with a couple of pairs of pants over his arm. “Just bring your shirts along and I’ll find you a cubicle to try them on.” He turned and they followed meekly.
Fifteen minutes later Pierce emerged from the store wearing jeans with the blue and gray shirt Jane had picked out. His suit, two pairs of chinos and shirts were carefully folded in the bag that swung at his side.
Outside on the pavement, she let out her breath. Pierce blended in perfectly with the summer shoppers. She began to think that maybe there was a chance he could pass muster as a modern man.
Back at the car she turned the key in the ignition. “Now for the big test,” she said as she waited for an SUV full of kids to inch past her back bumper.
“Sounds ominous. What is it?”
“Mother.”
“Ah! I seem to remember dealing with the mamas of a few young ladies.”
“Do you, indeed?”
“The likeness of a she-bear protecting her cub comes to mind.”
Jane laughed. “I don’t think you’ll find my mother that intimidating, but she will give you the third degree.”
Pierce raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like the she-bears I’ve known.”
While she’d been waiting for Pierce to try on his new clothes Jane had reviewed in her mind all the reasons why she shouldn’t take him to meet her mother. Then all the reasons why she should.
If she was to see a lot of Pierce, as
she hoped, he would have to meet her mother sooner or later. Jane was not really of the “jump into the cold water and get it over with” school of thought. Yet here she was on her way back to her mother’s house with a film that showed the old mansion was haunted and the ghost himself sitting large and warm and definitely human right next to her. Oh boy!
“So tell me something about her.”
Jane drew in a deep breath. “Hard to know where to begin. It isn’t that my mother is difficult. It’s just that I made the mistake of moving back home after college and she thinks I’ll stay forever.” She braked for a cyclist barreling through the intersection. Idiot!
“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued. “I love my mom and we get along okay. It’s just that every so often I feel she might wash my face with the corner of her handkerchief and straighten the bow in my hair just as she used to do when I was six.”
She turned into the street where she lived. “It’s the third house down.” She pulled to the curb and stopped. “I really have no complaints. Except that I’m never alone. If I have a date and announce it, it becomes a big deal and I get the cross-examination afterward. If I keep it secret I felt guilty and mean-spirited.”
She turned to Pierce. So here she was with a hunk who looked like Orlando Bloom on a good day and who, if he opened his mouth, was likely to put his foot in it and give away the whole enchilada.
“You want me to keep quiet?” he asked.
“Yes. No! Just let me do most of the talking. Forgive me.” She touched his arm. “But until we’ve worked out our story it’s best not to say too much. We’ll go in to let her know I’m okay then I’ll make an excuse to get away.
“Back to the motel?” He nuzzled her neck.
“Yes.”
“I can stand any number of mamas with that promise in front of me.”
Jane saw the curtains twitch. Her mother had already seen the car and pulled back one of the lace drapes to wave enthusiastically. She disappeared. Any moment now the yellow front door would open. Sure enough, before Jane could wind up the windows Elaine came barreling down the two concrete steps and trotted to the car.
“Darling,” she called out from halfway down the path lined with late-blooming petunias. “Darling, thank heaven you’re safe. I was so worried.”
By now Jane had eased herself out of the car and stood with her back to the passenger door, shielding Pierce as much as she could.
“Are you all right?” Elaine took hold of her shoulders and peered anxiously into Jane’s face. There were lines around her mouth and her eyes were red. Had she been crying?
“Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Elaine smoothed back some hair from her daughter’s face. “There was a fire in New Jersey at a campground. I was worried about you.”
“But I wasn’t anywhere near New Jersey, Mom. I was just a few miles away in Maine.”
“I know, I know but it made me realize how dangerous it was for you to camp out anywhere all alone.”
It was on the tip of Jane’s tongue to say she wasn’t alone but she bit back the answer. Her mother had a vivid imagination and could turn any innocent scenario into a major disaster. But she’d worried because she cared. Try to dwell on the positive.
Jane patted her shoulder. “I was quite safe but it’s nice to be home.” Liar, liar pants on fire!
As she moved her arms, she revealed her passenger.
“Oh!” Elaine turned to look more closely. “You have a friend with you.”
Here goes nothing! Jane took a deep breath. “Mom, I’d like you to meet Pierce. We ran into each other.” Well, that was true, since she’d done a touch football tackle on him and his dead stepmother. She stepped away from the car and opened the door. “Pierce, this is my mother, Elaine Chartraine.”
Pierce flowed from the car and sprang to his feet. He gave a half bow and took her hand. “Mrs. Chartraine,” he said, gazing into her eyes, still holding her hand. “I am amazed at the likeness between you and Jane. I know now where she gets her looks.”
Maybe it wasn’t the best line for getting into someone’s good graces, it sounded a bit trite and callow although Jane didn’t mind the inference that he thought she looked good. But it just showed what she knew. Her mother actually blushed and simpered. Yes, she simpered, there was no other word for it.
“I’m happy to meet you, Pierce. Would you like to come in for a glass of iced tea?”
“That sounds wonderful.” Pierce offered his arm and she actually took it. He led her back to the house, turning his head while still on the path to give Jane a wink and a sly smile.
Pierce, eh? Well it would do for now. Her mother would certainly wonder where a Newland came from after all these years.
She popped the trunk and grabbed her pack. There wasn’t much left in the way of food and drink since Pierce had shown such a healthy appetite. Small wonder. He’d used up lots of energy. At the reminder of their activities she smiled as she closed the trunk.
She heard their voices in the kitchen as she came in the front door.
“I trained as an accountant,” she heard Pierce say. “But I’ve mostly worked for my family, managing the property and the investments.”
“Oh my that does sound interesting! How do you come to know my daughter? You can’t be from around here or I would certainly have met you already.”
Jane dropped her bag and prepared to step into the conversation. Pierce was likely to blow everything out of the water.
But as she reached the kitchen door Pierce went on in that friendly yet respectful voice that seemed to be enchanting her mother. “Of course we would have met. I am only sorry that I never had the opportunity to know you. I have missed a treat.” Jane remembered what he’d said about dealing with mamas. Talk about catching more flies with honey than with vinegar!
“I have thought so much about someone like Jane and when I met her she was everything I’d imagined.”
Elaine didn’t seem to realize that he hadn’t really answered her question.
“I guess you met at college. Jane never mentioned you. It sounds as if you knew each other pretty well.”
“We are very firm friends and l—”
Jane’s heart lurched. Not lovers! Please, God, let him not say “lovers”.
“Like so many of the same things.” Yeah right. The only thing they’d shared so far was wild sex. Jane pushed open the kitchen door.
“Ah, Jane,” Pierce said as if she were the guest and he the host. “Come and sit with us.”
Elaine poured some tea from the glass jug and Jane perched on a stool at the breakfast bar.
As she sipped her tea she watched Pierce operate his charm on her mother. She was putty in his hands, just as Jane had been for the last two nights.
Their conversation faded to a murmur as she thought back. Pierce had said that whoever touches a ghost and brings it back to life becomes responsible for it. She had swallowed the story at the time but then she got to thinking about it. There were questions she still had to ask when she had him alone.
A couple of hours later she drove Pierce back to his motel. He settled back in the passenger seat and gave a big sigh. “Great cake!”
“You should know.” He’d taken three pieces of Elaine’s pound cake, cementing himself even more into her good books.
Jane signaled the left turn at the intersection. “Pierce,” she began.
“Yes, my love?” He put his hand on her knee and her head did the emptying trick like pulling a plug from the bathtub drain.
She forced herself to concentrate. “I have a question.”
“If it’s what I think the answer is yes. Yes I want you to stay with me. Yes I think you’re wonderful. Yes I’m having a great time in my new life.”
“Be serious.” She frowned. The mention of the new life had brought her back to solid earth. “You said that when someone touches a ghost, the ghost comes back, or whatever you want to call it, and then starts to live agai
n.”
“That’s right.”
“How do you know that?”
“It doesn’t happen often.” His hand slid up her thigh. “But I’ve heard about it. Ghosts can get together to talk sometimes, you know.”
She frowned again. Next he’d be telling her that there was a “ghost line” for communication.
“Really? Supposing the ghost is a murderer like your stepmother? Could someone bring her back?”
“I guess so but I’m not sure. She’s a condemned spirit and I’m a victim. Most ghosts are poor helpless creatures, doomed to walk around the place where they died because…”
“Because?” She stopped for a red light and glanced at him. His face was serious for once.
“There can be lots of reasons. They might not believe they’re dead so they have to realize they can move on. Or they need to warn someone. Or the event in which they died was so sudden and fraught with emotion they are trapped together with others. That’s the saddest.”
“That was your situation?”
“Right.” He nodded. “Imagine all eternity reliving the same murder.”
She shivered despite the warmth of the day. The light changed and someone hooted behind her. She drove on.
“So your stepmother is alone now?”
“I guess so.”
“Could someone release her by touching her?”
“Theoretically it might be possible but I think she’s gone now she no longer has a victim.”
“Let’s hope she has. Otherwise she might want to try again.”
She pulled into the motel and found a slot near his room. The back of his hand rested gently on her lap and she felt the heat pulsing from it. He exerted no pressure, just sat there, letting the mute question do his asking.
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