Provoking the Spirit (4 page)

Her head nodded against his chest.

“I agree. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed making love to a woman as much as I have you.”

Now she laughed. “I bet you say that to all the girls so you can maybe go for a second round.”

Her words stung. He pushed her far enough away so he could read her expression in the moonlight. Her solemn face showed no innocence, no sarcasm. A single tear glistened in the corner of her eye. He wiped it away with the pad of his thumb and stroked her soft cheek. “Please believe me when I tell you that I meant everything I said. I’ve always liked you, but I never knew how special you were to me until tonight.”

She bit her bottom lip. “You’re telling the truth?”

“Yes, and if I have to prove it to you, I will.” He lowered his head and kissed her, hoping he could somehow convey the intensity of his feelings for her through his lips.

He didn’t expect her to cry out in pain.

Remy opened his eyes in time to see something grab her hair and yank her to the ground. She slammed against his dresser. The drawers opened and showered their contents on her before crashing to the floor. But no one stood near her, as far as he could see.

Goosebumps prickled his skin. An icy chill filled the room, and he remembered Ainsley telling him about ghosts creating cold spots. He jumped off the bed to shield her from the paranormal attacker. “Stop it!”

The debris flew around them like they were in the middle of a hurricane. He pulled the covers off the bed and wrapped them around their naked bodies to protect them from the splintered wood and shards of glass that nicked their skin. She shivered next to him, and he tucked her head under his chin.

He heard a woman crying, but when he looked down, he saw it wasn’t Ainsley.

“Your ghost,” she whispered, confirming what he already suspected. She clutched his hand. “Remember what I told you.”

Remy nodded. “I said, stop it. This is my house, and I will not allow you to bully us this way.”

The wind died down, and the objects in the air clattered to the floor. A ball of light formed at the foot of the bed, elongating and taking the shape of a woman. The features of her face and clothing became clearer as the light brightened. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties, and the full skirt of her dress appeared to be something from another century. A scowl twisted her pretty features in a visage of pure hatred. “I will not share you with another,” a faint voice rasped.

All the air left his lungs when he heard it speak. Ainsley had been right all along. A jealous female. “What claim do you think you have over me? You died long before I was born.”

The ghost floated towards them. The long skirts of her antiquated dress disappeared in the bed. “Why do you shun me, Emil?”

Why the hell did she call him Emil? “My name is Remy, and this is my house now.”

Her sobs echoed off the walls. “Did I not please you?”

He opened his mouth to answer her with the string of expletives that sat poised on his tongue, but Ainsley pressed her hand to his lips. He wrapped one arm possessively around her, still making a statement in his silence.

Ainsley wrapped the sheet around her like a bath towel and slowly rose to her feet. “You are no longer flesh, and a man needs to have those desires tended to. You want him to be happy, don’t you?”

Her heart pounded through her thin chest against his hand as she spoke, and he moved between them in case her words sparked another attack from the ghost. The challenge in her voice left little doubt in his mind that she wanted to make her own claim on him. She was willing to fight for him, and desire filled him at the thought of it.

The ghost continued to advance on them, and she reached out to touch his face. His cheek stung as if an ice cube rubbed against his skin. Part of him wondered if this was some sex-induced hallucination—this shit couldn’t be real—but Ainsley saw and heard everything he did. “You are trying to forget me?”

“Play along,” Ainsley whispered in his ear.

Play along? What the hell? But as he stared into the ghost’s face, the sorrow there came into focus. He finally began to understand what was going on. This felt more awkward than running into an ex when he was with a new girlfriend because of the intensity of her feelings for whoever this Emil was. “You aren’t forgotten; but don’t you want me to be happy now you’re gone?”

The ghost withdrew and turned to Ainsley. “And you have found happiness in her arms?”

“Yes, she has filled my heart with joy.”

Ainsley’s brow wrinkled like she didn’t believe him, and he grinned. He’d have plenty of time to convince of that later.

“Then I will allow her to stay, but only her.” The light dimmed, and the ghost disappeared. Hot, humid air from the late summer night flooded into the room, replacing the chill.

“I think that reached a ten-point-zero on my freak-o-meter,” he muttered. He turned to Ainsley. She cradled her left wrist, but her glazed eyes stared at the place where the ghost had stood. “Are you okay?”

Her eyelids fluttered, and she shook her head. “That was the most intense encounter I’ve ever had.”

He tilted her chin so she faced him. “You’ve had shit like this happen to you before?”

“Not quite like this.”

No wonder she didn’t run away like the others had. “Do you feel safe enough to come back to bed with me?” He took her hand, and she flinched.

“I think I need to have my arm looked at.”

She showed him her wrist. He didn’t need an x-ray to know it was broken. The odd angle of her lower arm and the swollen skin around it told him as much. He kissed her forehead. “Then let’s get you dressed and take you to the ER.”

“It can wait until morning—” she began and tried to wiggle her wrist to prove it to him, but she cried out from the simple movement. “Okay, maybe it can’t. I just wanted to spend more time in bed with you before we had to go.”

His skin flamed with desire at her confession. He was almost tempted to take her back to bed if he hadn’t witnessed the pain in her face a few seconds before. “We’ll have plenty of time to cuddle later.”

She cocked a brow. “Cuddle?”

He grinned. Damn, he was going to enjoy being with her. “Or something like that.”

Chapter Five

The room slowly came into focus. The first things Ainsley noticed were the bright lights overhead. A slimy film coated her tongue as if she had been drinking all night. “Is it over?” she asked in a slurred voice.

Remy stopped pacing in front of her bed long enough to answer, “Yes, they’re done setting the bones.”

“Do I get to pick out the color of my cast?”

The tech beside her laughed. “You boyfriend already did that for you.”

Her boyfriend? Remy winked when her gaze flew to him. Then she turned and watched the tech roll layers of blue fiberglass over her left arm. “Couldn’t you have picked out purple or gold? It’s almost football season.”

He grinned at her. “That’s why I picked out Duke Blue.”

“I said football season, not basketball.” She stuck her tongue out at him. The drugs still had her feeling a bit loopy, but the idea that the tech thought Remy was her boyfriend caused a warm and cozy sensation to flow through her veins.

“Try to keep your arm above your heart so the swelling won’t get too bad.” The tech rinsed his hands and left them alone.

She lifted her head, and the room spun.

“Careful.” Remy rushed to her side, and his strong arms steadied her. His lips grazed her hair, and he tucked her head under his chin. “As soon as they release you, I’m taking you home and tucking you into bed.”

“Your bed or mine?”

His chest rumbled with a throaty chuckle against her cheek. “Whichever one you want.” His finger scratched along her cast, which warmed her arm like a heating pad as it hardened. “Who would have thought that ghost hunting could be so dangerous?”

“Yes, that’s a first for me.” She looked up into his eyes and could have sworn she saw stars dancing in their blue depths. “Of course, I’ve never had mind-blowing sex with a client before, either.”

“Just plain old everyday sex?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Did he translate her forward behavior from tonight into thinking she was a slut? “No, I mean—”

His eyes crinkled when he smiled. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? “Just kidding, Pains.”

“You haven’t called me that since—” A huge yawn ended her sentence.

“Since we were the age where I could pull your pigtails and run away,” he finished for her and tweaked her hair to prove his point. “Come on—let’s go back to my place.”

She remembered nodding in agreement before falling asleep.

***

Remy listened to the nurse’s instructions and nodded his head even though none of it made sense to his sleep-deprived brain. Thankfully, she handed him a few pieces of paper with the same information on it. Perfect.

He glanced down at Ainsley. The pain meds they had given her had her sleeping like a baby. He envied her. He couldn’t wait to stretch out on the bed next to her when they got home.

She didn’t stir when they propped her up in the wheelchair, when he loaded her into his car, nor when he carried her upstairs. Damn, he needed to pop one of those pills to get sleep like that. But when he lay down next to her, all the weariness hit him like a Mack truck. He didn’t bother removing his clothes before he drifted off to sleep and dreamed of making love to her again.

***

The sound of gentle snoring filtered through the haze of her dreams. She opened her eyes and winced at the early afternoon sunshine that spilled in through the window. A firm wall of muscle stretched along her back, cradling her body. And something heavy encased her left arm.

This wasn’t her room. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The camera lens stared back at her, and memories of the night before flooded her mind. The investigation. Making love to Remy. The ghostly attack.

Her arm throbbed, but not as much as her sex when she recalled every detail leading up to the appearance of the ghost.
Dear God, did I really sleep with Remy?

A snort drew her attention, and she turned around to look at him. He slept soundly on his side. Dark smudges formed half-moons under his eyes, and she resisted the urge to brush back the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Guilt gnawed at her for keeping him up all night. She didn’t even remember how she got back to his place.

She checked the camera for the blinking red record light and breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t see it. She only hoped the battery had died before it captured their bedroom antics. But on the other hand, it wouldn’t have caught the conversation with the ghost. She bit her bottom lip. Damn, she could have really used the evidence to support her story. As if anyone would believe it, cast and all.

Remy shifted in his sleep, and she eased off the mattress. Time to collect her equipment and get home so she could review the DVDs. And hopefully, get it all done before he woke up.

It took her a bit longer than normal to pack up the equipment with her arm in a cast. Every time the floor boards creaked under her, she looked over her shoulder to see if Remy was coming. By the time she was rolling up the cords downstairs, she imagined she was acting like some sort of burglar trying to sneak in and out of the house while the owner slept. This was ridiculous. She should go upstairs and thank him for taking care of her last night, not running away.

But deep inside, she dreaded hearing him say it was just a one-night thing, followed by a, “thanks for the sex but don’t expect a phone call” line from him. This was what the girls had gossiped about in high school. The sex was always great with him, but never anything that resembled commitment afterwards. And now she had fallen for him, too.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” She smacked herself on the forehead with her cast, and pain radiated up her arm.
Dammit, now that was stupid.
She gritted her teeth and waited for the pain to subside before packing up with renewed fervor. She needed to get out of there before she made a fool of herself.

Goosebumps rose on the back of her neck and along her arms. The air around her dropped at least twenty degrees, and even though it was still daylight outside, she knew she wasn’t alone. She spun around and saw the ghost watching her from the doorway. Unlike last night, she wasn’t a full-bodied apparition—just a floating torso—but there was no mistaking her face. Her fingers itched to grab the video camera and start recording, but something held her back.

“You are leaving him?” the ghost asked.

“I don’t think he wants me around any longer than necessary. Besides, I need to get home.”

“But he has chosen you.”

Why did she feel the need to explain herself to a delusional ghost who thought Remy was her old lover? “Listen, ma’am, I wish I knew who this Emil was that you loved so much, but—”

“Emil was the love of my life, and I foolishly squandered it.”

Ainsley sank into the couch. Ever since college, she knew she was “sensitive”, that she could see and hear things that other people couldn’t. But this was the first spirit she had encountered that could carry on an intelligent conversation. Her gaze flickered to the camera, and her right hand balled into a fist.
Show some respect for the dead, Ains
.

“What happened?” she asked.

The ghost cocked her head to the side, as if this was the first time a living person had ever asked her that. “Emil was my husband. When I could not bear him a child, I began to suspect he would leave me for another. I should have seen his love for me and only me, but I was blinded by my own jealousy. I didn’t want to share him with another.”

The ghost turned away so only her profile was visible, and Ainsley wondered what secrets she kept. “Then what?”

“I tried to reclaim his affections by drinking a potion from Madame Laveau. She swore it would just make me ill enough to scare him if I mixed a few drops in with my wine. I mixed more than that, determined to have a more dramatic effect. I ended up cursing my afterlife. Now I am imprisoned by this purgatory.”