Ghost for Sale (4 page)

“Everyone comes to Jimmy’s.”

He nodded in agreement. We chatted easily and continued to dance when the band switched to a fast number. Patrick was a good dancer and had a strong sense of rhythm.

There was no sign of Liam. Fine, maybe he’d gone to haunt someone else.
Nonetheless, his absence made my stomach quiver and my nerves jump.

As the evening wore on and I didn’t spot him, my unease grew. I tried to forget about it and enjoy Patrick. He was easy to be with, maybe because he was comfortable with himself. He seemed caring and confident with no pretensions, an unusual combination in a boy my age.

But no matter how much I enjoyed Patrick’s company, I couldn’t relax. I was waiting for a ghost.

About midnight, Marcy approached us on the dance floor. “Ready to go?”

“Sure.”

She turned to Patrick and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Marcy.”

He shook it. “Patrick.”

“Nice meeting you, Patrick. Let’s go, Cuz.”

“Okay.” The room was packed, but no Liam. Nerves skittered just under my skin. The ghost was not my responsibility…regardless of how much it seemed like he was. I held out my hand to Patrick. “It’s been a fun evening.”

He took it and held it, his clasp warm. “I want to see you again.”

“I’d like that.” I tried to pull my hand away, but he held on and leaned in. Amusement danced in his brown eyes. “Would you give me your number?”

“Oh, sure.” I rattled it off, heat climbing my face.

“Got it.”

“Even without writing it down?” My neck cricked as I tilted my head up. He was several inches taller than me.

“Photographic memory.”

“I’m jealous.”

“I hate to break this up, but can we go?” Marcy asked, and shifted on her feet. She wrinkled her brow and scrubbed her forehead.

“Headache?”

“Big time.”

“We’ve got to go.” I eased away from Patrick till I was at arm’s length.

“You’re not in a relationship, are you?” He let go of my fingers.

“That’s a very loose term for it.” I continued to back up.

Marcy snorted, then winced and grabbed her head.

“You’re involved with somebody?” He gave me a rueful smile, a look of comical dismay on his features.

“We’re not an item.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ll call.”

“Okay.” Before I could say more, Marcy tugged me away. As we hit the door, I stopped and gave one last sweep of the room.
Where is he?
My pulse increased, and I started to panic.

“Come on.” Marcy pulled me through the door. “Would you mind driving?” she asked, taking her keys out of her tiny black purse to toss them at me.

“Sure.”

As we reached the car, my breath went out in a whoosh. Arms and legs crossed, Liam leaned against the shiny Corvette. The street lamp limned his high sharp cheekbones and sparked the blue highlights in his hair. Plain black cotton trousers framed long legs. My heart tightened and my bones loosened. He was just so darn pretty, in a manly-man sort of way.

His stormy eyes shifted to me. He stared, unsmiling.

The ghost was still in a snit. Well fine, I was in a bit of a snit myself.

We drove home in silence. I glanced in the rearview mirror. Liam stared straight ahead, his arms crossed, pensive. At least he wasn’t white knuckling the side of the car. How strange this must seem to him.

I surfed the satellite radio till I found a channel that played old Irish ballads.

A beatific expression came over his face, making my breath catch. How could a man be so good-looking? Maybe it was a ghost thing. His expression changed to one of abject terror. “Watch out,” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

I turned the wheel sharply to the right, just missing a little old lady driving a bright red sports car. She laid on her horn and stuck her third digit out the window.

Liam stared, his gorgeous mouth open. I think a senior citizen giving me the finger shocked him worse than my driving. After that, my attention stayed on the road, and I drove as sedately as a Sunday driver out to enjoy the countryside. Marcy snored softly beside me.

I hit the remote and pulled into the garage. Liam’s eyes widened as the garage door rolled up. “Isn’t that something?” He shook his head.

“Yeah,” I whispered, then gently nudged Marcy. “We’re home.”

“Um-hm. Goodnight. I’m going to bed.” She stumbled out of the car and into the house.

I collected my purse and followed.

Suddenly, he appeared in front of me, filling the entryway, his shadow dark and menacing on the wall. My heart gave a little thud. Should I be afraid?

“I wish I could have danced with you.”

Whatever I’d expected, it wasn’t this. “I wish you could have too.” The words slipped out before my brain had a chance to formulate them. Disturbed, I slid past him. “I’m going to bed. Remember the bathroom is off limits, and no watching while Marcy or I dress or undress.”

“I’m not a peeping Tom.” He drew himself up, practically quivering with outrage.

“And how would I know that?” My voice sounded weary even to myself, my shoulders slumped. Mom would have a fit if she saw my posture.

“Listen to your heart,” he replied softly. He leaned against the doorjamb and studied me, his smile gentle.

“Don’t say things like that. My heart’s got nothing to do with it. I don’t know you. You don’t know me.”

“What troubles ye, Caitlin?” His voice sounded like water rippling over stone, smooth and soothing, sliding across my senses like raw silk.

I shook off its drugging effect. I was too exhausted to be soothed and chose petulance instead. “Well, let’s see. Could it be because I’m talking to a specter? Someone that’s not real? Yeah, I think that’s it.” I stomped to my room and leaned against the door I’d shut with more force than necessary. “Well this has been quite the night. I meet a sexy ghost and a sexy man all in the same evening.”

“I thank you. As for the man, he’s an improvement over the other.”

“Umph.” I threw my hand over my mouth and swallowed a shriek. “This is my bedroom. What are you doing in here?”

There he sat on my bed, his black trousers and jacket accentuated by the ecru crocheted coverlet. The vest matched my spread to a T. Though, now wasn’t the time to be considering ghostly fashion statements.

“I didn’t mean to upset you by saying I wanted to dance with you. And I didn’t mean to annoy you at the pub either.” He rose and hooked his thumbs in his waistband, then rocked back on his heels. “You get as ruffled as my sister Anna.” He grinned. The smile was short-lived as a shadow crossed his face. “This is my first time around as a ghost. It’s strange to me too.” He hunched his shoulders.

I didn’t think the fact that he was a ghost had caused that brief glimpse of pain on his face. My tension eased as I tried to put myself in his place. Just the thought of it scared me spitless. “I’m sure it is strange. And this is your first time as a ghost?”

“Yes. I was in limbo until I got sucked into that test tube.”

“You have—excuse me, had,” I corrected myself, confused about tenses, “a sister Anna?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he drifted to the window and stared outside. A fat yellow moon floated through the dark sky, a bevy of shimmering stars in its wake. Finally, he spoke, his back still to me. “Yes… I have a twin, Anna.”

“A twin,” I repeated. “I don’t have siblings, but twins are especially close. Aren’t you supposed to be linked?”

He turned and looked at me, the usual good humor gone. He sighed, a wispy lonely sound, and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger before he dropped his hand. “That’s right. Linked is exactly what we are.”

I tried to process that, but was suddenly too tired. “Where’s your twin?” I held up my hand before he could speak. “No. Don’t tell me. I can’t deal with any more tonight. I don’t understand any of this. And above all, I don’t understand why I can see you when no one else can. In fact, I’m not entirely convinced you’re not a figment of my imagination.” I pressed my fingers against my aching head. I probably sounded extremely rude, but my psyche was on overload. “This is such a strange situation.”

He gave a rueful chuckle. “It is, isn’t it? If I’m a figment of your imagination, then you’re also one of mine.” He turned and gave me a strained smile. “And as far as why you can see me when no one else can… I’d like to know the answer to that one myself. But I can’t say that I’m sorry it’s you instead of your roommate—or anyone else for that matter.” The heat in his eyes weakened my knees. An unexpected flair of response kindled in the pit of my stomach.

“I bet you were a bit of a heartbreaker in your time.” I willed my thumping heart to slow.

He blushed.

Fascinating. Who would have thought a ghost could blush?

“The ladies and I got along well enough.”

Heat rose in my chest and blood pounded in my ears before I realized what I was upset about.
You idiot, jealous of a ghost.
How
stupid was that? I was beginning to feel like Alice in the rabbit hole
.
Another thought stopped me cold. Clayton was probably screwing his brains out about now, and the idea didn’t even make a blip on my radar. Time to make it clear to him, we weren’t going to happen.

I flopped down on the bed, toed off my sandals, and leaned back against the headboard.

He glanced at me. His gaze dropped to the cotton stretched across my breasts before he looked quickly away.

Heat flooded my face. Though why I should be embarrassed that he’d looked at my chest was beyond me. Guys checked me out all the time.

My cell rang. I rolled on my side and pulled it out of my pocket. “Hello.”

“Hi, Caitlin.”

“Patrick?” To have him call this soon caught me off guard.

“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure you got home all right.”

A little ball of warmth shot through me. “I did, thank you.”

“Sleep well then.”

“You too. Goodnight.” My bones light as feathers, I clicked off.

“Why were you talking into that gadget? You did that the first time I appeared.” Liam stared at my cell phone suspiciously.

“It’s a way of talking to someone by using radio waves.”

“I don’t understand.” He shook his head.

“I’ll show you how to use the Internet, and you can look all this stuff up.”

“Internet?”

“I’ll explain later.” My lids were heavy. My eyes wanted to close.

“So who were you talking to?”

“Patrick.”

“Oh.” He turned and stared out the window.

A huge yawn escaped my lips. “Sorry. I’m dead tired. No pun intended.” I fell back against the pillows. The scent of lavender from the linens vied with limes and cinnamon. “You smell so good,” I mumbled, my eyes closed. The luscious scent of him grew stronger. I pried open my eyes.

He stood next to the bed, his head tilted, a small smile on his lips. “Sleep well, sweet Caitlin.”

“Will you be here in the morning?” I closed my eyes again.

“If it’s up to me.”

I was fading fast. “Who else would it be up to?”

“Darn good question. Maybe we can figure that out, too.”

The throw at the end of the bed slid over me. I snuggled into softness and warmth.
Too?
“Liam, about your twin…” Before I could formulate the question, I dozed off.

* * * *

A ghastly scream and the sounds of sirens brought me straight up in bed. The sky had lightened to a muted gray, but for all intents and purposes it was dark. I threw back the covers and stumbled down the hall to the living room.

Liam stared at the television as if he were witnessing the second coming and was afraid of his destination. The volume continued to escalate. “Stop pressing the button,” I screamed.

“What’s wrong? Why are sirens going off?” Marcy staggered out wearing a “Shop Till you Drop” neon-pink sleep-shirt with a shoe motif ringed around the hem. She squinted at the remote that floated in the air. I grabbed it from Liam and pressed down the sound.

When the reverberation had reached manageable proportions, I turned to Marcy who stood in the doorway blinking like an owl in bright sunlight. “Go back to bed.”

“But the remote…” Befuddled, she continued to stare at my hand.

“Go to bed, Marcy. You were having a bad dream.”

“Bad dream,” she repeated, swaying in place. I started to throw the remote on the couch, thought better of it, and with a hand on her arm, led my cousin back to her room where she promptly burrowed under the covers. The sounds of her genteel snores faded as I left the room.

I walked to the great room. My ghost—I refused to consider him Marcy’s if she couldn’t even see him—stared in awed fascination at the television. “What in thunderation is that?”

“Television.” I plopped on the couch and leaned my head back against the large soft cushions. “They had one at Jimmy’s.”

“I saw a box at the bar that resembled this, only smaller, and no magic came out of it.”

“Oh, right. Band was playing. It was shut off.”

“What is a television?” He reached out and touched it.

“A television is an electronic system that transmits pictures and sound. That particular model is high-definition.”

“Television,” he breathed. “Can I see the thick stick?”

“Thick stick?” I asked, my eyes drifting shut. “Oh, the remote. No, I’ll just hold on to that for now. If you wake Marcy back up, I don’t think she’ll buy the bad dream twice.”

“Remote,” he repeated. “Show me. I promise not to hit the sound.” He held out a hand I could see through.

I motioned him toward me, gave him a brief rundown, and dropped it in his palm. With a look of pure male satisfaction, Liam channel surfed.

“It’s got to be imbedded somewhere in the DNA.” I stretched out on the couch, pulled up my knees, and pressed my feet into the couch cushion. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the blinds. Might as well make some coffee. But I made no move to get up.

“Hmm?” He never glanced away from the screen, his eyes shining.

“Guys and remotes. Never mind.” He sat at my feet. A low-level buzz of electricity from his nearness, as well as his signature scent of limes and cinnamon, gave me a strange sense of peace. I yawned and let myself drift back to sleep while Liam played with the wireless control.