The Ghost of Christmas Never (3 page)

Jake snorted. "Don't you own a mirror?"

Another minute or two of quiet slowly passed while I dissected his answer. "You like my
hair down?"

"A lot, actually. It's very sexy."

I reached out and flicked on the table lamp. Turning toward him, I propped my elbow on
the mattress and my head on my hand. Jake, clearly curious, turned on his side to face me.

"Here's the deal," I said, plucking at the comforter. "Now that Mia doesn't need me
anymore, I have to start living my own life. Since I want it all—husband, babies, house in the
'burbs—I'm going to have to put myself out there. Speaking for your gender, what are my chances of
snagging a man at my age?"

"Which is?"

"Thirty."

"I predict you'll bring some poor guy to his knees on the very first date."

"Some
poor
guy?"

"My bad. Some
lucky
guy."

"Hmph!"

"No, I mean it." Jake reached out and lifted a strand of hair out of my eyes. "Any guy who
gets a date with you is very lucky."

"Why?"

"Because you're not only beautiful, but self-assured, successful, and smart."

I covered my eyes and groaned. "I don't want to do this."

"You asked a question; I tried to answer it."

"Not
that
this."

"Now you've lost me."

I looked him in the eye. "I don't want to date a bunch of strange men just to find one
man I can tolerate. I'm so out of practice it'll take me forever to get comfortable with anyone. What
if I get so desperate I settle? I mean, I've got the whole biological clock thing going and can honestly
see that happening."

Jake laughed at me. "There's always the internet. Love matches dot com."

I rolled my eyes.

"Or... You could practice on a man who isn't strange at all. And before you ask... I mean
me."

"You don't think hunting ghosts is strange?"

"
I
don't, no. And you know I didn't mean that kind of strange. So what do you
say? I live in Little Rock, too. I'd be handy."

"Hm. What, exactly, are you up for?"

"Practice phone calls, practice dinners out, practice dinners in, practice hello hugs and
goodnight kisses, even practice sex. I'm definitely your man."

Now I laughed at him. "You wish."

He suddenly got very serious. "I do, actually."

Had not seen that coming. "B-but what about your career? Aren't you on the road
twenty-four-seven?"

"Did I mention I have a day job?"

"You know you didn't."

"I'm a photographer. I specialize in weddings, but I'm great with anyone, and my
schedule is very flexible."

"You should give me some of your business cards. I have brides in the bakery all the
time."

"And you should give me some of yours. We'll be a team."

I smiled, liking the sound of that.

"Does that smile mean what I think it does?"

"I think it does." I echoed his words with a laugh. "Shall we shake on it?"

"A kiss would better seal the deal and be practice for our future practice."

Hm. Did I dare? It had been so long...

Going with impulse for the first time in a long time, I leaned toward Jake, who met me
halfway. We landed a little off target. He sort of sipped my bottom lip; I opened my mouth as we
readjusted our aims. Suddenly what should've been a single chaste kiss became a dozen
unforgettable ones.

"Mmm." Did that sigh come from me?

"Mm-
hm
." That was definitely Jake.

So much for not having the hots for each other. By the time I flopped back on my side of
the bed, I was so wildly in lust with him that I could barely breathe, much less speak.

Luckily Jake did the honors. "Damn, Libby."

"I've been saving up."

"Lucky me."

I looked at him, still unsure about what felt like a mutual attraction, but desperately
wanting to believe. "Really?"

"Hell yeah."

Deep breaths
. I so wanted to pounce on him, but I had to be smart. That was,
after all, the Libby way to handle things. "Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"You should probably sleep on the floor."

"Right." He sat up to unzip the sleeping bag, but the zipper got stuck.

I sat up, too, and with my legs crossed campfire style watched him struggle to free it.
"What about Ebenezer?"

Still yanking on the zipper, Jake spared me a glance. "Who?"

"The ghost."

"Ah." He spoke to the room. "Lay one hand on my woman and I'll send you to your
maker. You know I can do it."

His woman? My heart turned a cartwheel in my chest, as good as annihilating my
dwindling resolve, though I still made a halfhearted attempt to save it. "You know I'm feeling a little
desperate right now, don't you?"

Jake abandoned his task to give me his full attention. "With good reason. Speaking from
experience, lifestyle changes are the scariest."

"So you've been in my position?"

"Sort of. The first time was when I quit my lucrative accountant's job to open my
photography studio. The second was when I decided to utilize my psychic abilities instead of hide
them."

I slowly nodded. "Did you dive right in or plan things out?"

"Dove right in." He went to work on the bag again. "I tend to over think things if I
don't."

Did I over think things? I knew I did. "And what's so bad about that?"

"You invariably make decisions based on the worst instead of the best that could
happen."

Truer words had never been spoken. "Er, Jake?"

"Yes?" He suddenly freed the zipper and tossed the flap back.

I saw a faded Superman on the worn flannel lining—lots of them, in fact—and for some
crazy reason that decided me. "Is there room in that thing for two?"

Jake's startled gaze clashed with mine. "Not even close."

"Perfect. May I join you?"

His jubilant grin was all the answer I needed.

Linda Varner Palmer is an award-winning author with more than thirty books to her credit
ranging in genre from paranormal YA romance to Silhouette category romance. She had
contributed to three anthologies and has also written short stories, novel bytes, and novellas.
Linda is a member of the Paranormal Romance Guild and the Electronic Publishing Internet
Coalition (EPIC). In 2011, she won EPIC's ebook award in the Young Adult category.

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