Careless Whisper

by Wendi Zwaduk

  Samara stared at him. She fit the good girl requirement, but settling down? With her? She clamped her teeth down hard on her tongue, drawing a drop of blood. Even if he was the type to settle down, a few hours wasn’t long enough to decide if things could last for more than a moment.

  Keep him close.

  Her eyes widened. Ryan’s lips never moved, but she could’ve sworn he spoke. “What did you say?”

  His brows knotted. “I didn’t say a thing. Did you hear someone?”

  Samara shook her head. Someone spoke to her. Either she needed sleep—alone—or his cologne had etched itself onto her brain. No way would she have irrational thoughts like hearing voices on her own.

  Ryan clicked a button on his key fob, opening the garage door. “I see she brought my car back. Why don’t you pull into the other bay? No one else is using it.”

  “I’m not parking in another person’s garage spot.”

  “It’s mine.”

  Blushing, Samara crept forward into the bay. “You inherited well.”

  “Meh, it sucks if there’s no one to share it with.” Ryan exited the car and rounded the trunk. Before she realised where he was, he tugged open her car door. “Want to room with me?”

  She says yes!

  Samara stood up with a jerk and forced her gaze around the dark garage. The voice was back and sounded feminine. She fisted her keys. The joke was beyond funny, edging into irritation territory. “Who said that?”

  The soft tone of Ryan’s voice captured her attention. “What did you hear?”

  “I thought someone answered you.” She took a deep breath, letting the exhale flow past her lips. Something seemed off besides the cockamamie voices speaking to her. The only spare key for her car lay in the bottom of her purse. If he had his keys, then whoever brought his car back had a set. Like a girlfriend. “This won’t work, so why don’t you email me the plans and we’ll IM or something?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “And how are you so sure? I don’t want to interrupt whatever you have with your friend.”

  He cocked his head. “Come inside and we’ll talk. I can explain a lot of it. Besides, aren’t you hungry? I might not have heard the voice, but I sure heard your stomach growl.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. Leaving sounded better than hanging around, but the tangy scent of the vinegar fries whet her palette. If she had no other gifts, she had been blessed with a healthy appetite. “No ghosty mumbo-jumbo to get into my pants, and if I see another woman in there, I’ll cut off your nuts.”

  “I should be hurt,” he said and laced the fingers of his free hand with hers, “but I’m not. Even with the threat of castration, you’re too much of a good thing to screw this up.”

  She wanted to swat away his words, to let them roll off her back. Her inner romantic filed them in a tiny corner of her mind. Still, syrupy or not, she needed something snappy to combat the tension between them. “Then feed me so I can get outta here.”

  “I plan to do more than that.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Ryan sat across the dinette table and munched on his fries. The map of the TamasMansion sat spread before him with a water ring marring the edge and a couple of greasy fingerprints decorating the lawn for good measure. Gesturing with his middle finger, he pointed to one of the smaller bedrooms. “This is where Nadia is claimed to have taken arsenic to be with her dead child. I’ve got notes about other investigators capturing voices and singing in there. I’m not sold, though.”

  Samara sipped from her soda can and stared at him. Ignoring the words coming from his mouth, she focused on the passion blazing in his eyes, the lilt in his voice as he described the hauntings—and the blob of cheese on the corner of his mouth. Just reach across and politely wipe it off? Say something? Point discreetly?

  Kiss it off!

  She gasped. Yeah, kissing it off presented a whole gamut of delicious ideas, but she’d just told him not to put the moves on her. Wasn’t the flip-flopping in order to turn the tables a bit…sexy, wrong, enticing, childish, against her personal rules? And whoever the voice was needed to keep quiet before she did something she’d both enjoy and regret. Guys like Ryan, no matter how much they claimed, didn’t fall for women like her.

  “You aren’t listening.”

  Heat infused her cheeks. “Sorry.” Samara busied her hands by moving his soda can off the opposite corner of the map. “One more time?”

  “You heard something.”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “But you also have cheese, right here.” Gingerly reaching across the table, she slid her finger over the melted dairy product.

  Molten lava lit up Ryan’s eyes as his tongue darted out to taste her. Sucking her finger into his mouth, he moaned. Electricity zapped through her system and dampened her panties. Who knew a glob of cheese could lead to an erotic act?

  When he released her hand, Samara sank back in her seat. Everything in the room seemed to fade away, except Ryan and the raw need sizzling between them. Something deep in her gut told her fucking him would be everything she imagined and so much more. Hell, seeing him naked would probably make her come, it had been so long since she’d been with a man.

  Then jump on him and have fun for a change.

  Jolted from her lusty thoughts, Samara pounded both fists on the table and closed her eyes. “Stop!”

  “What, Sam? Tell me what you heard.”

  He said he could help. Fine. She flattened her hands on the mahogany surface, opened her eyes and forced her gaze to his face. “Someone told me to have fun for a change.”

  “What kind of fun?” He tipped his head and his crooked his brow in tandem. The corner of his mouth drew up in a grin. “Sex?”

  “Ryan, be serious.”

  “She’s right. You and I could have a helluva time.”

  Samara rolled her eyes. The sooner she left, the faster she’d regain her senses and get past the minor flirtation with Ryan Black.

  “Sweetheart, you aren’t losing your mind. The voices are real.”

  Ryan folded his hands on the table and leant forward. Shit. Explaining everything would be harder than he thought. Too much uncertainty hung in the air. One wrong word and she’d bolt. But if he didn’t tell the truth, she’d more than likely clobber him for holding back. “You know who one of the voices belongs to.”

  Samara’s lips parted on a gasp. “How?”

  “Honey.” He winced, preparing for the fallout. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  “I’m not your—” Samara’s brows knotted. “You have another woman here and you’re romancing me? I knew it!” The shrillness of her voice clenched around his heart.

  “That’s not true.” Although the shock resonating on her face crawled under his skin, her comments wrapped around his heart like a vice. Oh, she’d be a challenge he’d relish. “Yes, I am trying to show you how special you are, but the other woman isn’t a threat.”

  “That’s what a player would say.”

  “Player? Now I am hurt.” Ryan spoke over his shoulder. “Come on out, Honey. I made a mess of things.”

  “I’m here to help you both.” Honoria stepped from the shadows. Her silver hair glinted in the soft lamplight and her blue eyes twinkled. “Listen to him, Sammy. He’s your Spirit Mate.”

  “Spirit Mate… Gramma? Where did you come from?” The colour bled from her face and her eyes widened. “You—have you been here the whole time?” Samara scooted back in her seat, tipping the chair over as she scrambled away from the table. “Oh, my God…Ryan Black is the new man in your life.”

  Sidling up next to Ryan, Honoria threaded her hands around his biceps. “He’s cute, but he’s not my type. His hair’s too long.” She swatted his butt in more than a gentle shove towards Samara. “Then again, dress him in something from ’42 and we could strike a bargain.”

  Covering her face with her palms, Samara turned around. Her shoulders shuddered. “This cannot be happening. You said you lik
ed a guy named Walter.” As Ryan reached out to comfort her, Samara whipped around. “I’ll leave you alone. You need privacy, not my intrusion.”

  Ryan snagged Samara’s arm as she scurried past him. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

  She froze, but didn’t cringe away. The muscle in her forearm tightened beneath his touch. “How? She’s got a set of keys to your car, your apartment. As twisted as it looks, she’s your girl.”

  “Sammy, child, calm down. Unlike most things in the world, this is simple. You have a gift.” Honoria smoothed the wrinkles from her shimmery blouse. “You can see me when others can’t.”

  “Of course I can. You’re my grandmother and a cougar.” Samara inched away from Ryan in the direction of the front door. “But I must be losing my mind because you just appeared out of thin air and have the hots for the guy I like.”

  Ryan’s ears perked. “You like me?”

  “Hush, Ryan. You aren’t my cub,” Honoria replied. She turned her attention to Samara. “I’m dead, little girl.”

  Steadying herself on Ryan’s arm, Samara swayed. Her face paled. “That’s not possible. We spent Christmases together. You made me dinners and showed me how to crochet.”

  “Sit down and we’ll explain everything.” Honoria’s voice dropped to a whisper. “But we have to hurry.”

  Ryan gathered Samara in his embrace and led her to a chair. She slumped forward and yanked the elastic from her hair. As she rubbed her temples, the curtain of chestnut and chocolate strands shrouded her face from his view. He dropped to one knee and brushed errant strands behind her ears, needing to touch her, to reassure her. The fragility in her eyes conflicted with the strength in her soul. The desire to question her statements crossed his mind. Samara said she liked him. The knowledge lightened his heart. He cast a glance at Honoria. Already she began to pale. Shit.

  “Sammy, look at me.” Honoria edged closer. “You can see the dead.”

  “Not possible because you’re not dead,” she replied without looking up.

  “I have been for thirty years, child, but you saw me because you can.”

  “How? It doesn’t make sense.” Samara squeezed Ryan’s hand as she brushed tears from her cheeks. “Why me?”

  “The women in our family have magic and we have Spirit Mates.”

  “Magic? Okay, yes, Willow and Jonquil have special down to a science. But me? I’m plain,” Samara whispered. “I can’t even do card tricks.” Ryan rested his forehead against her temple. Given ten more minutes alone, and he’d show Samara every way she made his heart race. Plain didn’t begin to describe her.

  “You’re my granddaughter and that makes you special. Your mother never embraced the gift so it faded and your sisters are too wrapped up in themselves to notice.” Honoria held her hands open. “I can’t explain everything because now that you know you can see me, I have to move on.”

  “Gramma, I can see through you. Why can I see through you?”

  “That’s my cue. Ryan, tell her everything because my reason for being here is expiring faster than I’d have liked.” She grasped Samara and Ryan’s entwined hands. “I love you, Sammy, but I’ve got a date with your Grampa Clarence. Take care of Ryan, he’s a good man.” With a smile, she melted into oblivion.

  For a pregnant moment, Samara stared in the direction where Honoria once stood. She opened her mouth twice, before finally speaking. “This is just not happening. My grandmother tells me I have a Spirit something, she evaporates and Ryan Black puts the moves on me.” Samara stared at Ryan with misty eyes. Her chin quivered. “Why are you involved? Before this morning, you wanted nothing to do with me except to bump into me in the hallways or smile in the stairwells. You wouldn’t dance with me at the Christmas party last year.”

  “I acted like a fool at the party because I didn’t want to look stupid to you. You and I have a special connection and I didn’t want to screw up things with my Spirit Mate. I’ve wanted to talk to you many times, but I couldn’t.”

  “Because I can see people who don’t exist?” She fluttered her hands in the air. “No, I know, it’s because you needed a warm body in a pinch. Someone who will lend credit to your farce of a show. The spirit business just made it sound official.” Samara stood and wiped tears from her face. “I need to go before I embarrass myself.”

  Thunder rumbled through the house. Fat rain droplets splattered against the windows and echoed throughout the apartment. Felicity’s voice slipped into his brain. Don’t let her leave. Ryan ground his teeth together. If Samara spent the night, it would be on her terms, not because his ex insisted.

  “Samara, I want you to stay. You’ll get soaked.” His voice sounded rough, even to his own ears. “It’s too dangerous, but if you have to go, I understand.”

  “Save the chivalry.”

  She pushed past him, but he enfolded her in his arms. “Take your emotions out on me, babe.” Ryan stroked her hair, relishing the feel of her body against his. “Let it out without running away.” With her, he felt whole again. “Just let me hold you, please?”

  Although it took longer than he’d have liked, Samara curled against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, wetting his shirt with her tears. “I don’t understand…anything.”

  “Ghosts are spirits who can’t leave our realm.” He cupped her skull, resting his forehead against hers to look into her eyes. “Some are powered by love and memories, like Honoria. But others fuel themselves on fear and negative energy.”

  “Then you have this gift?” Samara slipped from his grasp, putting space between them. “Other than Gramma, who can you see?”

  Hell, she wanted the truth. Rubbing his palms on his jeans, he debated what to say. “My abilities are limited.” The lights flickered as if to accentuate his words.

  “Just as I suspected—your show is a fraud.”

  “Yes and no. I can only see the ones who want me to see them, but seeing isn’t everything. You and I belong together.” Ryan scrubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. There were so many things he needed to explain. An icy feeling seeped into his bones as Felicity’s vanilla perfume tickled his senses. For a split second, her image flashed before his eyes. The scowl on her face etched itself onto his brain. Did she want him to be with Samara or was this yet another push-pull game?

  “Ryan, this won’t work. I’m not a Spirit Mate.”

  “Check the weather on my laptop.”

  “Why? What’s it got to do with Gramma?”

  “The storm. We weren’t slated for rain until next Tuesday.” He sighed. Going on without Samara wasn’t a possibility. “Samara, you—I want you to trust me. This storm isn’t a freak occurrence. Sometimes spirits manipulate the weather to show their presence. They can fuck with the cosmos if they can garner enough energy, you know, like raining during a funeral or wedding.” He inched towards her, bridging the gap to her. “I can’t explain it, but my gut feeling is to keep you as close as possible. My heart’s attached to you and I know you feel it, too, because you know there’s a stronger bond here.”

  Before she could answer, a sizzle split the air.

  “I shouldn’t believe you. I should run out that door and never look back.”

  “Most people don’t believe what I say.”

  She smoothed her fingers over his chest. “I don’t know if it was Gramma, but a voice told me to keep you close. Is that the Spirit Mate stuff working?”

  “It could be. I’ll get down on my knees if I have to, but the elevator won’t work and I don’t have a handle to manually open the garage door. Stay, please?”

  The glow of her cell phone lit the blackened room. “I keep it handy for emergencies. According to the clock, it’s three A.M.” The pale blue light sparkled in her eyes as she stared at him. “If I must stay with you, Spirit Mate or not, I’m going to crash on the couch. I won’t impose.”

  “Take my bed.”

  “Ryan.” As the lightning flashed, her gaze snapped to hi
s. “This isn’t the time.”

  “I know you’re angry with me and I deserve it for not being honest, but I meant what I said. My heart won’t let me leave you alone.” He smoothed the pads of his fingers over her cheek. “I spent too much time acting like a jerk because I didn’t trust my instincts, but if it helps, I liked you from the moment I saw you.”

  “And your instincts tell you something bad is brewing besides the lack of electricity?”

  “I’m sure I want you here, in my arms, but whatever malevolent spirit wants to do harm isn’t playing around.”

  As his eyesight adjusted to the darkness, he noticed her gaze vacillating between his eyes and his throat. She licked her lips and puffed out a breath. “I don’t know why I feel like I need to trust you, but down in my gut I’m certain I need to stay put”—she gestured to her right—”on the couch.”

  Ryan replied with a slow nod of his head. “I’ll be a gentleman and keep you safe.” In his bed and in his arms.

  Chapter Seven

  “The couch is lumpy and heaven knows what’s crawled into the crevices. My bed is nice and warm and more comfortable.” As Ryan nudged her towards the bedroom, a shard of pain pierced Samara’s heart. She was probably the first woman he had to cajole into his inner sanctum. No doubt other women went willingly. His voice broke through her thoughts. “Stay put and I’ll grab some sleepwear. I don’t want you to trip in the darkness.”

  “I can’t sleep here. This is your place and you just said it was fine if I crashed on the couch.” The light from a security lamp blinked on, splashing a dim yellow glow around the room.

  “Technically, a nod doesn’t mean things are fine, but I insist. My bed is all yours.” Ryan handed her a T-shirt emblazoned with the Ghost Explorers logo—a calligraphic GE and paint spatters on a black background. “It’s the best I have on short notice.”

  “I can sleep in my clothes.” She tugged on the hem of her shirt. “Comfy casual.”

  “Nah, a woman is sexy in a man’s shirt.” He draped the cotton across his pecs. “Like it?”