by Wendi Zwaduk
A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
Careless Whisper
ISBN # 978-0-85715-481-1
©Copyright Wendi Zwaduk 2011
Cover Art by April Martinez ©Copyright February 2011
Edited by Stacey Birkel
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2011 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom
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Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.
CARELESS WHISPER
Wendi Zwaduk
Dedication
For all those who said I couldn’t and those who said to keep going
CM – With a BFF like you, who could ask for anything more
JPZ – There might have been a careless whisper or two, but I never stopped loving you
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
iPod: Apple Inc.
Cleveland Browns: Cleveland Browns
Monte Carlo: General Motors Corp.
Mustang: Ford Motor Corp.
Chapter One
“Being a ghost explorer is a pain in the ass.”
Ryan Black leant back in his chair and folded his arms. He shook his head and scoped the scene in the cafeteria, adding, “It’s not fun anymore.”
Chasing spectral beings around buildings on the verge of demolition wasn’t his idea of fun, especially if he couldn’t find her—the one woman to understand him. He served the public frenzy for the afterlife on earth through his investigations, but it wasn’t enough. One of these days he’d break his neck while in search of proof ghosts existed. Sure, he could stroll out onto the main drag of Snake Falls, Ohio, and point out plenty of walking dead, but if the viewers couldn’t see the dead, then his proclamation wasn’t enough.
His video tech, Eddie Mowyer, one of the few living people Ryan called friend, tapped his thick fingers on his soda can. “If you hate it so much, then quit this job and do the weather for Channel Five. I can think of at least three hacks out there who’d take your place in a heartbeat just to get the hoards of girls. It’s not like you prove the existence of ghosts.”
“Ghosts do exist. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times.” Ryan balled the wrapper from his sub sandwich. “You know the reason I won’t give up.”
Eddie rolled his eyes and groaned. “I know, I know, not until you find her, whoever this fantasy woman is.”
“I want to find my wife.” How could Eddie not get the point? Ryan clenched his fist. Damn. The nights seemed to get lonelier the longer he spent away from Lis. When he closed his eyes, he could barely remember her smile. Fuck.
“I’ve heard the story so much, I’d swear it was mine.” Eddie folded his arms and hunched over the table. “You never want to hear this, but your beloved Felicity was a wench who couldn’t keep her legs closed unless it was for you. Maybe she meant what she said and really wants you to move on.”
“What if I don’t want to get over her?” God, he hated to lie. He wanted his life back.
“Ryan, someday you’ll want a woman to grind her butt into the middle of your back in the dead of night because she wants to stay warm. You’ll need that pair of arms to hold you when your day’s been a load of shit. That’s when you’ll wish you had moved on.” Eddie nodded over his shoulder. “Look around at the scenery. Ohio girls are the stuff of legend. For example, Meredith has those legs a man fantasises having wrapped around his waist.”
“Engaged.”
“Well, then there’s Caren. She’s got a nice rack and she’s single.”
“Implants.”
“Pick nits.” Eddie snorted and shook his head. “You’ll shoot down all my ideas just to be right.” He scoped the cafeteria room once more. “What about Samara? She’s cute in a girl-next-door kinda way. All peaches and cream. I’ve caught her checking you out once or twice a day for the last year.” He pointed to Ryan. “She’d make a perfect forever girl.”
“I had my forever girl. But I could be wrong.” Samara checked him out? Hmm… Kinda nice to know the attraction wasn’t a figment of his undersexed imagination. He’d spent many a night fantasising about her, holding her, making love to her, waking up in the morning and seeing her smile.
At her table across the room, Samara curled up in her chair, paperback book propped in one hand and concentration written on her face. From his position, he couldn’t read the title, but he’d passed her desk enough times to know she liked romance novels. In the two years he’d worked in the same building with her, he’d heard her speak a total of three times but he knew her voice like his own.
“Ryan?”
“What? I’m checking out the scenery. It’s—” He drew a breath, feeling more than the oxygen stirring something within his body. His sex drive? He shifted in his seat. Yeah, there was a definite tingle below the belt. “It’s intriguing.” When he closed his eyes, the vision of Samara astride his lap formed in crystal clarity. The tingle evolved into a damned hard-on and thank you, God. Sexy, captivating…there weren’t enough words to describe the rush. He needed to make his way onto her radar, fast.
“You don’t listen for shit.” Eddie growled.
Ryan opened his eyes and glared at his friend. “Say something important.”
“Just stick to your life of solitude and aimless fucking. What do I care? Missy’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”
Ryan smiled, bobbing his head. Eddie was indeed lucky to have Missy. She catered to his every whim without protest, while aggravating him with her particularity. The more Ryan considered the perfect pairing of Eddie and Missy, he realised the flaws in his former relationship with Felicity. For three straight years, he’d spun his wheels, chasing ghosts that didn’t exist, ignoring ones that did exist and watching his life pass him by.
Returning his attention to Samara, he raked his fingers through his hair to mask the blatant ogling. Samara shoved a lock of caramel-coloured hair behind her ear with one delicate hand. Unlike Lis, Samara wasn’t one to paint her nails or wear much jewellery. Simple, with an air of what-you-see-is-what-you-get about her. She struck him as the type to happily sleep in her husband’s T-shirts or snuggle in a jersey while watching a football game. No, peaches and cream did nothing to describe the unconventional beauty—curves where a woman should be supple and a genuine smile that threatened the walls around his heart. What would it feel like to have her hands caress his body? To hear her scream his name while he pumped into her pliant body? To love her?
“Ryan Black!”
Dragging his attention from Samara, Ryan glanced in the direction of the scream. A group of seven women surged towards him. Their voices bled together in a mix
ture of excited giggles.
“Well, penis with legs, which one you gonna take home tonight?” Eddie snorted. “Or are you finally gonna hit on Samara?”
“Edward, you’re an ass and too blunt for your own good, but this time I’ll listen. I’ll take the second choice.”
Eddie scooted back in his chair and dipped his head. “Fuck me sideways, I’m proud.”
Before Ryan could reply, a buxom woman with hair the colour of fire, eased into the plastic chair next to Ryan, brushing her breast against his arm. “We’d hoped to catch you here.”
Another woman with golden curls sat on Ryan’s right. “We have so many questions.”
The scent of perfume, something expensive and tangy, floated in a cloud around him, churning his stomach. Ryan spared a glance at Eddie who put both hands in the air as he backed away. “All you, buddy. All you. Just don’t fuck it up.”
Ryan threaded his fingers together over the bulge in his jeans. The women didn’t want to talk about his ghost adventures or to seek tips for catching voice phenomena, and they didn’t need to come to the wrong conclusion about his erection. They wanted to meet the pseudo celebrity and have their picture taken with him. To offer their phone numbers and bodies for an imagined night of pleasure no man could fulfil.
Any other day, the fan adulation wouldn’t have bothered him. Today, it did. He stole a peek across the room to Samara’s table, only to find it empty. What the hell? How could he eyeball her while the groupies droned on? No matter. If she couldn’t stick around to be his private eye candy, then fine.
Sort of.
The woman on his right grabbed his thigh; her blood-red nails glinted in the harsh fluorescent lighting as she dug into his flesh. “What’s the scariest part of the investigation?”
A girl with coal-coloured tresses sat opposite him in the chair recently vacated by Eddie. “I’ve kept up on your fan site and I see there isn’t a particular Mrs. Black in the picture. I’ve seen you get pretty shaken up after an expedition. Who do you turn to for consolation?”
Although the implication in her question wasn’t new to him, the knee-jerk reaction in his mind was. I can face down hell with Samara beside me. He nodded to buy time. He’d never spent time alone with Samara Jacobs. The idea that she might like him wasn’t even remote—nice to the point of sending a lick of fire through his veins, but not possible without getting to know her.
Unless she was his true Spirit Mate. He sneaked a glance around the room, finally finding Samara’s position. She stared at him with one brow raised and a miniscule smile on the corner of her mouth. Did she find the women’s display humorous? Or was she sizing him up?
The red head frowned, the corners of her mouth drawn tight. “Are you going to answer or play statue?”
An answer—right. “All the places I’ve explored have their scary moments, as you’ve all seen on the show, I’m sure. But when I leave, I try to leave the fear behind and move forward knowing I’ve proven the existence of ghosts.”
There. That sounded…official. And boring. So much for being an entertainer.
“Do you see actual demons? When you went to Allavisa, you said Eddie was possessed. Were you, too?”
Ryan suppressed the groan. AllavisaSchool wasn’t nearly as teeming with the paranormal as he’d made it out to be during the show. The abandoned school building had its oddities, including an overly horny racoon family, but nothing to rate it as highly charged with paranormal activity. The women scooted closer, awaiting his grand answer. He drew a long breath and puffed it out. “I’ve never been the victim of a demonic possession, but I’ve had my share of aberrant actions. It’s a matter of showing them you aren’t scared. It’s really very simple. You stay in charge of the spirits and demand to be the boss.”
The blonde clutched a charm at her throat. “Whoa.”
The red-head’s eyes widened. “Marry me and I’ll have your baby.”
Oh shit. “I’m not in the market for love, ladies, but thank you for stopping by.” He hazarded a glance to the clock. “I need to get back to the editing room so Eddie and I can prepare the next episode.”
Each woman gave him a hug and demanded an autograph before they exited the cafeteria in a knot of whispers and squeals. His shoulders slumped. Not one in the bunch wanted to know about actual paranormal activity. None stirred him in any way. Damn.
“Hauntings? Aberrant actions? What you do has nothing to do with demons or spirits—unless you mean the spirit of getting into women’s pants.”
Ryan turned to see Samara standing next to him, her arms folded. Had she listened in on the entirety of his ridiculous diatribe? “I don’t cross-dress.” Sitting on the edge of the table, he took in the sight of her. A strange rhythm pounded behind his ribs and his cock pulsed beneath his zipper.
“Har.” She rolled her blue eyes, the type that could snare a man at twenty paces. “No, you bed the women whose houses you clear of spirits. I’ve seen your show and I hear the gossip. Criminey, you should be checked for STDs.”
“Gossip and innuendo.” Hell, up close she demanded his attention without saying a word to grab it. “And FYI, I’m clean.”
Damn, if she didn’t turn him on with her sass. He wanted to be irritated and she verbally smacked him between the eyes. A tiny part of him wanted to walk away from her and never see her again for the sake of the memory of Felicity. Shit. The more his gaze roved over Samara Jacobs, the more he wanted to take a trip all over her body, learning what made her laugh, sigh, and whimper in delight. She, unlike the female population of Snake Falls, Ohio, didn’t buy into his line of work. The simple fact that she gave him a run for his money enticed him.
Just as she turned on her heel to leave, he touched her arm, amazed by the silky smooth texture of her skin. “Wait, you watched my show?”
“Yes, I saw the show. I prepare the transcripts, remember?” She glanced away, only to stare at him again. “If it’s truly pretend, then you’re golden—only a fiction writer can make up some of the stuff that happens to you. Then again, I don’t buy into ghosts anyway. As far as I’m concerned, it’s all bunk.”
“How so?” His mouth watered for a taste of her. Anything to keep her talking so he could be around her more.
“Because, you go to places infested with rats, raccoons and other vermin. Critters make noise and scatter when the light hits them. And the static from your camera isn’t a voice, so don’t try to convince me otherwise.”
“I’m hurt.” Interested, perplexed, drawn, turned on—very turned on.
“Why?”
“You tore my ego to shreds without a backwards glance.” I think I’m in love. A glimpse of Felicity roved into his mind and he shoved it away. Sparring with Samara was too fun to worry about the past.
“I’m not the first, I’m sure.”
“You’d be surprised.” So was he. In ways he couldn’t understand, Samara complemented him. She gave him reason to want a future—with her.
“Why don’t you just make Ghost Explorers a fictional show? People’d buy into it that way.”
“And discourage my loyal following?”
“I’m leaving now.” The curt tone of her voice cut deep into his marrow.
“What do you think of me?” he asked quickly.
“Ryan, they either follow you to see what oddball thing you’ll do next, like trip over your own feet, or they just watch because you’re eye candy. What I think is a moot point.”
“Then let me walk you to your cubicle and I’ll redeem myself.”
“No way, lover boy. You got yourself lost in the Hillman House last season, and that was after you proclaimed you knew the house like the back of your hand. No, I’ll go my own way and leave you to your following.”
“Oh, honey, don’t leave me this way.” He sounded corny, even to his own ears, but the idea of her walking away rubbed him wrong. Letting go of her could be his biggest mistake. A feeling he couldn’t describe coiled tight in his belly while moments of what co
uld be with her flipped through his mind. As if she was his Spirit Mate.
Was it possible?
She crooked one honey-coloured brow. “Let me guess: you’re sad, lonely, and need a warm body amongst the cold spirits? No thank you.”
As she strolled away, Ryan followed the sway of her ass. No one had ever told him the obvious—his show was a joke. Why? Because long ago, too many women convinced him he was sexy, too many times they claimed he found the spirits and ghosts in their houses or whatnot and proved the afterlife existed. Not Samara. She told the truth. Well, the half-truth.
Ghosts, including Felicity, existed, but it was up to them to let their presence known and they weren’t misty or shadowy as many people expected. Ghosts walked among the living and, through energy usage, managed to appear as real, live people.
Ryan folded his arms, watching until Samara rounded the corner. He might just have to have her as his sidekick on his next adventure. From what he remembered of the shop talk, she wanted to get out of transcription and back out as a video tech. Why not have her as his camera woman? Then he’d get to know her better. If he wasn’t sure of it before, he knew now. He’d met his match in her and he liked the odds.
Bring it on.
Chapter Two
Darkness fell, enveloping the room in shadows. Death and anger lived in the shadows, waiting to attack the unsuspecting, the weak. Ryan stared at the ceiling and stroked his cock. Samara had talked to him. Sure, she’d chastised him and rolled her eyes, but she’d noticed him. He worked his hand over the blunt head of his erection. A long groan slipped past his lips. If it were her hands, her mouth on him, he’d be in heaven.
As he masturbated, memories bombarded him. He wanted to focus on Samara, but something wasn’t letting him alone. His dead wife came to mind. Dammit. The more he mentally reached for Samara’s image, the more it faded, only to be replaced with Felicity’s tight smile. He growled low in his throat. “Felicity, why?”
