How To Bring Your Love Life Back From The Dead (8 page)

“I’m sure.” She furtively pinched
her arm. Nope. She was awake. Fantasy it was.

His smile was immediate and wicked.
It was the smile of a scoundrel. Crap. Just the kind of guy she
liked—which led, of course, to heartache. Deep, soul-wrenching
heartache, and a guy conning you out of a hundred thousand dollars
of inheritance.

“So, I don’t exist, little
mouse?”

“I’m not that little,” she said,
putting her hands on her hips. “I’m five foot six.”

“You weigh less than some dogs,
though, I’d warrant.”

Ana’s eyes narrowed. “Did you just
compare me to a dog?”

“Favorably, though.” His lips
twitched in a repressed smile.

“Oh really?”

He moved to his hands and knees,
approaching her, and said, “So, if I don’t exist, then I certainly
can’t do this.” He kissed her again, sliding one hand around her
waist and the other hand to cup her cheek.

“No,” she agreed before she opened
her mouth to his.

Ana might have assumed that kissing
someone so cold would be unpleasant but, then again, she liked ice
cream and this was sweet and cold and…he’d just slid his hand to
cup her butt.

Were imaginary ghosts allowed to do
that?

Apparently so.

She lay back as he stretched over
her. How strange…there was the pressure of weight against her, but
no actual substance. It was as if the air was heavy and so, so
sexy. His mouth broke away and traveled down to kiss her neck as
his hand pulled her shirt aside to expose her collarbone and
shoulder to his cold lips.

Oh, she was repressed. She was good
and repressed if she was imagining this. She was mental. She should
be in therapy. But, wow, it felt good. It figured only a fantasy
man would get her torn up inside with want.

“I don’t know how far I can go, but
you may want to make your wishes known.” His lips brushed her skin
with each word. So cold. So hot. Her bones were melting.

“I like what you’re doing right
now,” Ana said, closing her eyes and arching slightly. Mmm. Really
liked it.

He chuckled against her skin. “I
meant that I haven’t had a woman in nigh on a century, and I want
to lie with you and bury myself in your heat.”

Ana’s eyes snapped open. “Can you do
that?”

“I have no idea, but I’m certainly
willing to try.”

Analise scrambled from beneath him
and was shocked that his body lost substance when she’d
moved.

“Pity,” he said, sitting back
against the bookshelves. “So, mouse, what are you doing in my
library at night?”

“This isn’t your library.” That was
her best comeback? Pathetic.

He raised his eyebrows again in that
supercilious way that was already annoying.

Supercilious—conceited; overbearing;
smug—in short: this ghost.

Unfortunately, it was also a bit
charming—which was why it was annoying. Why was she attracted to
arrogance? Why? This was why she hadn’t dared to date for two
years. She had such incredibly awful taste in men. However, dead
and six feet under was a new low.

“What are you doing in here?” he
asked again.

“Researching ghost stories,” she
said, trailing off. Okay, well, that did sound ironic
and….

Her ghost laughed, falling back
against the bookshelf and dropping straight through it. His legs
were on this side, but his torso was in the bottom shelf of books.
Her eyes widened. Whoa!

*****

His sweet interloper was bold, and
this was the best night he’d had since he’d died actually. Shane
was losing energy fast, and he wouldn’t even be able to stay for
the full night as he normally did. Still, kissing her had been
worth it. She was a curvy package and fiery. He’d always found
redheads to be so, but she was a warm dream on the cold night of
his existence.

When he sat up, he realized she was
staring at him in horror. The fact that he’d fallen through a solid
object clearly reminded her of things that kissing him
hadn’t.

“You are a ghost,” she
whispered.

He held out a hand. “Yes, I am.
Shane Blythe, resident spook.”

She placed her hand in his clasp and
said, “Analise Franklin,” as he kissed her knuckles. He knew she’d
intended to shake his hand, and he’d thrown her with the kiss, but
leaving Analise off-kilter was entertaining. Even the quick brush
of his lips on her fisted hand cost him energy, though.

“But I don’t believe in
ghosts.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t either,” he
said, releasing her hand. His appearance dimmed, and he winced. He
had minutes left if he didn’t make any grand gestures. It was just
as well they’d stopped when they did. This lack of substance was a
type of impotency few men got to experience. Lucky him.

“Why are you here?” Ana
asked.

Yes, well, that was a touchy subject
he didn’t care to discuss. Death was personal—more personal than
life in point of fact. Death was discussed in the antiseptic rooms
of hospitals and in the undertaker’s offices, not on the floor with
a beautiful redhead who was as warm-blooded as they came. If he’d
had a heart to stir, she would have shook it up with a vengeance.
Those full pink lips, and those big eyes that kept blinking at him,
hoping he’d disappear. She kissed like an angel he’d like to
disgrace. Death was the last thing on his mind.

“Do people call you
Analise?”

She shook her head, sending those
copper curls of hers dancing. “No, Ana.”

“Ana.” It rolled along his tongue
beautifully, and it suited her. “I like that, mouse.”

To his surprise, she reached out,
and her hand slipped through his chest, tickling slightly. “How
come you felt solid earlier when you…?” She swallowed and licked
her lips—those beautiful lips he’d tasted.

She blushed when he continued
staring at her. It seemed she was conservative and old-fashioned
when it should have been him. Though he was never very conservative
in life and, as for old-fashioned, it wasn’t his fault fashion had
muddled on without him. He didn’t generally care for a lot of
modern dress, but her jeans had been soft as suede against his
hands, and they fit her snugly…something he appreciated quite a
lot.

His dimming strength was therefore
quite a pity.

“I’m losing energy, Ana. I only have
so much each night, and I used quite a lot when I…kissed you.” He’d
been tempted to be crude just to make her blush, but tarnishing
this brief time together sat sour in his stomach. She should
remember it well. Those kisses and that embrace had felt more
significant than any had when he’d had substance. Perhaps it was
the absence of such things in his life simply made him appreciate
them more. That was most likely it. What he wouldn’t give to kiss
her for hours and bury his hands in that lovely hair of
hers.

“So, you’ll disappear soon?” she
asked.

Shane shrugged and nodded.
“Basically. I’ll be able to see some of what happens and remember
very little of it, but I won’t have a place on this plane until the
deep night falls and my energy is restored.”

She reached out, her hand falling
through his shoulder. She twisted and turned her hand with a
puzzled wonderment. “Amazing.” When she pulled back, he took the
opportunity to solidify as her fingers brushed his chest. Her
fingers on his body were worth it.

Gasping as she touched his chest,
she said, “I thought you didn’t….”

“I don’t,” he said, leaning forward.
“I wanted to be touched one last time.” One last time to last him a
very long time. An inch before his mouth touched hers, he winked
out like an extinguished lamp. Damn

“So, did you?” Jenny asked,
startling Ana at her desk in their small shared office.

With a squeak, Ana threw the pencil
she’d been tapping. It hit the blinds behind her before dropping to
the ground. “What? No!”

Jenny frowned. “You didn’t find
anything out?”

“No. I mean, yes…some…not much. I’ll
need to go back to the library tonight.” That sounded really
casual. Her friend shouldn’t be at all suspicious. Oh, hell, she
needed more sleep if she was going to be clever. At all.

“I could take a turn,” Jenny
offered.

“No!” Her vehemence made both of
them jump.
Wow. Ease up, Ana. Ease up.

Jenny’s forehead wrinkled up. “Are
you okay? Did you get any sleep last night?”

Of course she hadn’t gotten any
sleep. She kept thinking about Shane and what had happened. No
matter how many times she turned it over in her mind, she always
came back to the surety that she’d kissed a ghost…and liked it. It
was an exact reversal of her earlier perceptions on the subject of
supernatural events. Still, it was only a sign she was open-minded,
not that she was hot for a ghost.

“I had a restless night,” Ana said
finally. Understatement of her lifetime. A restless night due to a
dark-haired restless spirit. She was going to cut out of work
early—something she never did—to go look up more information on a
certain ghost who’d haunted her dreams and waking hours.

“Did you meet someone?” Jenny
asked.

Ana’s eyes felt owlishly big and her
mouth dropped open for a second. “How did you…?” How on earth had
Jenny guessed she’d met a ghost last night? Would Jenny guess she’d
really wanted to have a carnal relationship with said ghost
also?

“I knew it!” Jenny said, pointing.
“I knew eventually some guy would come along who would convince you
Keaton was just an aberration not the rule.”

“Yeah, but, I didn’t expect him to
be…” Well, dead. How did one put that into words? Cocky? Sure. A
bit of an ass? Absolutely, that was her type. Dead? That should be
unexpected for anyone, unless you were very creepy.

“The kind of guy you’d meet in a
library?” Jenny finished for her.

Oh. Not exactly what she was
thinking, so maybe she didn’t have the whole experience written on
her face. That would be rather strange.

“Sure. Exactly.” She hadn’t expected
to meet a ghost in the library, so it wasn’t technically a lie.
Plus, if she put the reality into words, she’d be thrown in to a
place with white coats and happy pills, and she couldn’t afford the
time.

“You never know.” Jenny gave her a
significant look before wandering off.

The day passed slow as syrup and
everything and everyone annoyed the hell out of Ana. Really,
though, most of them were annoying on a good day. It wasn’t just
her. One of their tour guides had a toothache and stayed home. A
toothache. Whatever. It was a guide who had recently acquired a
boyfriend who worked nights. The timing was suspicious.

That’s what it was. She was
irritated because the people around her were being so
irritating.

It wasn’t that Ana was beginning to
wonder if dating a ghost was her most doomed relationship ever.
Besides, what if he wasn’t that into her? What if she went there
tonight, and he blew her off? Ouch. It was only a few kisses.
Kisses that had been so hot even though his lips were cold. Maybe
that was just how she felt, though. Sure, he was haunting her days,
but she might not be haunting his.

A car honked on the boulevard
outside their office, and Ana snarled and threw her pencil at the
window.

“Oh, go already and stop growling at
everyone,” Jenny said, laughing.

“Cheryl doesn’t have a toothache!”
Ana shouted, seizing on the most rational reason for her to be out
of sorts.

“Of course she doesn’t. She has a
sweet tooth for some hot Italian who’ll lose interest quickly, so
she should strike while the iron is hot.”

Ana blinked at Jenny. “Really?”
Cheryl had always seemed so tame and rational.

Jenny grinned. “No, he’s a pudgy
divorcee out of Des Moines which sort of makes it more romantic in
my opinion.”

It did. It also deflated her
frustration. “Jenny, why can’t I be attracted to guys like
that?”

Wincing, Jenny said, “Not another
scoundrel. Your Han Solo complex is disturbing.” She threw a couple
peanut M&Ms into the air, catching them in her mouth. “On the
other hand, Han Solo did settle down with Leia.”