by Wendi Zwaduk
On the other side of town, Ryan struggled through a shower, his thoughts never drifting far from Samara. Even on his drive back to the station to retrieve the camera equipment, he replayed making love to her in his head. Each curve, sigh and scent wreaked havoc on his senses. Was he being overdramatic? She’d never told him to get lost. She wanted time and granted him space.
Ryan stepped into his office and paused to clear his mind. She wanted his trust. Fine. She needed time. Swell. He sat on the edge of his desk and drummed his fingers on his thighs. The last time he jumped in with both feet, he’d failed. How would being with Sam be any different? Because the fame and money didn’t move her. She was the simple girl he’d searched for all his life. And she wasn’t Felicity.
He closed his eyes. Faith dictated he take a deep breath and see where things went. Pride demanded he march to her cubicle and shout until he got his way. He could almost hear Honoria scold him.
Patience.
Fine.
A knock echoed in the silent room, making him open his eyes. “Samara?”
Although the door didn’t open, a chill shot through him. Ice hardened in his veins.
“Even better. I’m back.”
Ryan gasped as Felicity took shape in front of him. But instead of the teddies she’d taken to wearing, this time, she stood before him nude. A Cheshire cat grin curled on her lips. “Sorry it took me so long. Traffic’s a bitch.”
“The dead have no traffic.” His gaze roved over her body. The dips and swells he loved in the past remained, but no longer moved him. His cock didn’t come to life like with Samara. The flash in her eyes failed to excite him. No, seeing Felicity churned his stomach.
“Now you’re mine,” she purred and sashayed forward. She laced her weightless arms around his neck.
Ryan dipped his head. Samara strengthened his battered heart and healed his wounded soul. His perfect match. “Then she is the one.”
“Don’t you love me?”
“Lis, this isn’t fair.”
“Tell me about it.” She rubbed against him to little effect. Her turgid nipples faded in and out of focus, not touching his chest. “You can’t feel me, can you?”
“I can’t feel what died with you, but still.” He stared into the blue depths of her eyes. “You’re my wife. I’ll always have love for you.”
Felicity broke into laughter. “I knew you’d say that just when she showed up.”
Ryan turned as Samara backed through the doorway. Crimson stained her cheeks. “I’ll come back at a better time.”
As he strode towards her, Felicity grabbed his arm. “Oh, no. You stay here.”
“Dammit, now you have the energy to pull this shit.” He wriggled from her grasp, amazed she’d conjured enough energy to touch him. “My past with you is dead. I need Samara.” He rushed into the hallway, only to find it empty.
“I told you.”
He spun on his heel, ready to scream. What good would it do? Felicity would disappear just as she had in life. Why stick around to deal with the aftermath of her actions when taking the coward’s way out suited better?
She sat on the edge of his desk and crossed her legs, her bare foot bobbing. “If she really loved you, she’d have stuck around. Wimp.”
“Shut up.”
“I told you, you’re mine.”
Anger coursed through his veins. All the times Felicity showed up and wrangled her way in and out of his life to suit her own purpose. All the jealousy, the fights. She loved to stir the pot and cause trouble—for him.
“Some vows are made to be broken. You and I weren’t supposed to be anything other than a few dates and pity sex—not a marriage. You never loved me and I see now that I loved the image of you I had in my head. But images fade.”
“Bullshit.”A sneer twisted her lips.
“By coming here, you’ve shattered my illusions. Listening to Manuel’s careless whisper that you were a guaranteed good time was the worst decision of my life.”
“You can’t mean you’re in love with her.” Crimson glowed in the hollow depths of Felicity’s eyes. “She might have the gift, but she’s not your Spirit Mate.”
“With all my heart, I’m head over heels in love with Samara Jacobs.”
“Don’t you dare expect a happy ending,” she snapped.
Ryan snorted and shrugged. “With you around, anything’s possible.”
“Jackass.”
“I’ve been called that on occasion, but I don’t have time to argue. I’m late for the investigation. Sanitise my desk when you leave.” He patted his pocket and headed to the hallway. Once he got through the night’s exploration, he’d get down to loving Samara the way she deserved—completely.
Chapter Eleven
Samara waved at the departing car and checked the time on her phone. Two hours since she’d left Ryan in his office. She plopped down on the top step and leant forward with her elbows on her knees. No point in worrying whether he’d show. His professionalism would get them through the investigation. If he still wanted the relationship after his discussion with Felicity, then they’d move forward.
During the interview and preliminary walk through with Nancy, Samara marked the hotspots on her map—all three of them. Once he arrived with the cameras, they’d be ready to go and the investigation would commence. They could film the teaser footage for the station in the light of the next day.
She snapped her fingers. He said they had a mental link. Why not give it a try? Closing her eyes, she peered into the darkness.
Ryan? Where are you?
Silence.
Ryan. I’m worried about you and I have no idea if I can reach you.
Still nothing.
Opening her eyes, she sighed. There was always the cell phone.
As she pressed the buttons on her phone to reach him, a candy apple red Mustang rolled down the driveway along the front of the mansion and disappeared. Ryan. She’d forgotten he drove a restored ’69 coupe. Although she preferred her Monte, seeing him behind the wheel of the muscle car revved more than her engine.
Samara strolled to the four-bay garage behind the house where he’d parked next to her car. “Hi, handsome. I think we’re ready to go.”
Ryan stepped out of the car and strode towards the back porch. He pushed past her as if she didn’t exist. Determined not to let him walk away, she followed through the kitchen and the maze of hallways. “Need me to grab anything out of the car? I have the hotspots mapped out like you normally do.”
Ryan came to a halt, his gaze vacant. “Hello, Samara.” The faint smile on his lips didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “You can go.”
A chill wrapped around her and she shifted her feet. There wasn’t such a drop in temperature when she’d done the walk-through with Nancy. She peered around the room. A wall of floor to ceiling windows ringed the cavernous space. Over her head, she noticed the chandelier dripping with hundreds of crystal tear drops. The ballroom. The room built for romance.
Samara smoothed her hand over his bristled cheek, his skin cool to the touch. Inching closer, she flattened her other palm over his chest. “I met with Nancy and she showed me where there’s the most activity. Seems light, especially for your show, but I wrote them down. She said she’d be back at nine to lock us in.”
“She’s not coming back.”
“No?” She patted his pec. “Then we won’t show the actual locking in.”
“Let’s set up the cameras.” Ryan backed away from her towards the darkening windows.
Disbelief coiled tight in her stomach. Something wasn’t right. She’d watched his show, knew his routine. He insisted on a real lock or other tool to prevent him from getting out or someone getting in. Samara peered into his mind. This time, instead of a blank, she saw colours and heard another voice. Matilda’s words came back in full force. Spirits manipulated emotions.
Felicity.
Her heart thundered within her chest and not from the apparition swirling in the vast space
around her and Ryan. Her mouth ran dry, but she stood firm. If Felicity wanted a fight, then fine, but on Samara’s terms.
Ryan blinked and a flicker of recognition registered in his eyes. He held open his hands. “Samara, the investigation is cancelled. I’m going to stay here and have dirty sex with the woman I love—my wife.”
“I see.” Samara nodded but sent him a mental link. Fight this, Ryan. It’s a trick. Please.
He clenched his jaw, the muscle tightening as he spoke. “Babe, I’m with her.” Turning his palm to the sky, he returned her link. But I want you. Help me.
If you love me as much as I love you, then you can fight it.
Ryan cocked his head a fraction of an inch, not enough to stir attention, but enough for her to notice. You love me?
More than I can say.
Pink and cream hues returned to his cheeks. Emotions—love, hate, confusion, pain, respect all flickered in the dark depths of his eyes. The very corner of his mouth kinked. How do we fight this?
Let your heart guide your choice.
At his side, Felicity materialised. Swathed in a crimson silk negligee, she clutched his arm. Blood red nails tipped her fingers as she gripped him tight. “Stop it. Don’t you dare have a conversation without me.” She turned to Ryan and rubbed against him. “I will not be ignored.”
“I see you,” he replied in a flat tone. His gaze never left Samara. A hunger simmered in his eyes.
“No!” When Felicity released Ryan, her scant clothing disappeared. She cupped her breasts, rolling the nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. “You want me. You’ve always wanted me. Say it!”
“I don’t want you.” He turned from his ex-wife and offered his hand to Samara. “I need my Spirit Mate.”
Lightning crashed outside the windows, temporarily illuminating the room. As it dimmed, Ryan released her hand and slumped to the floor. “Shit.” He clutched his head and his limbs twitched. “Get the fuck out of my head, Felicity!”
Samara knelt next to him, wrapping Ryan in her arms. No matter how Felicity wanted to toy with the poor man, he held the key to stopping the manipulation. To mask the fear in her veins, Samara kept her voice calm. “You don’t get it do you?”
“He had me first. I’m the best,” Felicity snapped. Wind fluffed her hair and fire burned in her eyes. A frown bent her perfect lips and marred her brow with creases.
“I need Samara.” Ryan clutched her tight. “I love her.”
“You can’t,” Felicity shrieked. The sheen on her skin faded to a dull silver. “You married me.” She glanced down at her hands. “Dammit, your love for me keeps me alive. You need me to keep me here with you.”
Kissing his forehead, Samara murmured, “I love you, Ryan.” She brushed a hank of sweat slickened hair off Ryan’s brow. “Go where your heart leads.”
“My heart belongs to the one who gives me strength.” He twined the fingers of her other hand with his. “You make me whole.”
As she stormed forward, more of Felicity fizzled. “Don’t you dare.”
“I’m embracing the inevitable.” Shrugging out of Samara’s embrace, Ryan dusted the dirt and cobwebs off his pants and stood. He stared at Felicity for a pregnant moment before giving Samara a kiss. “I love you, Spirit Mate.”
“This is wrong.” Felicity’s voice echoed in the empty room. “I deserve better.”
Turning away from his ex and his past, Ryan snagged Samara in a hug and clutched her as if the force of Felicity’s anger could take her away. “Lis, you held my heart in both hands, but your needs and greed trumped the love we made. You chose John over me and you told me to move on.”
When Samara glanced over Ryan’s shoulder, only Felicity’s frowning face remained opaque. “No.”
“Someday you’ll find peace, but not in my arms or my heart. I forgive you and I’m doing as you suggested.”
“I’m supposed to get the guy, dammit!”
“I love Samara. Goodbye, Lis.”
“Goodbye, Ryan.” Her hand came into view for a split second as she dried a tear. “I guess ghosts can cry.”
Ryan glanced around the vacant ballroom. The growing silence calmed his adrenaline-frayed nerves. He took a couple of deep breaths, praying she’d agree to ditch the lockdown sooner rather than later. “My babe.”
“The ghosts are gone, unless you see more. So, now what?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Vegas.” To make their partnership legal and then a twenty-four hour marathon of sex and devotion.
“You’re serious?” Her eyes widened. “After thirty-six hours, you’re still ready to run off to Las Vegas?”
“I only needed one night to lose my heart.” He kissed her hard on the lips and rubbed against her. His erection came to life behind his zipper. They needed a bed—preferably not in an abandoned mansion—and soon. “Let’s put the cameras in the trunk and head to my house. We’ll exhaust each other and make for the airport in the morning. Come on.” Grabbing her hand, he led her out to the driveway. “I’ve wanted to hold you since the moment you left.”
She smoothed her hand over his chest, covering his heart. “Besides not doing the investigation, we’re missing a thing or two.”
Maintain professionalism. Check. He nodded and pinned her against his hood. “I’ll reschedule the lockdown. Nancy’s a great gal and one heckuva nice ghost. She won’t mind.”
She giggled and rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised? You have a Midas touch with ghost women.”
“The only woman—real or corporeal—I want to touch me is you. You love me and know me better than anyone.” He cupped her jaw in both hands, feathering kisses on her cheeks, nose and lips as he eased her onto the warm metal surface. “When we get to Vegas, you can pick out whatever dress you want. I’ve got plenty of room on my credit card that’s begging to be used on a beautiful woman.”
“I’ll get my own gown, thank you.” A combination of desire and mischief brewed in her smile. “But you sort of have to ask me before we can do any of these grand schemes.”
“You’re my Spirit Mate and the only woman in my soul. You can read my mind, so I’m surprised you haven’t heard me begging.” Pleading, down on his proverbial knees hoping she’d rescue him from his misery. Hell yes, he wanted to marry her—after he fucked her on the hood of his Mustang. He rubbed his cock against her jeans-clad pussy. “I need you.”
“And all I see is your over-zealous hormones clouding your brain.”
Life with Samara would never be mundane, especially if she kept her sense of humour. She wanted a genuine proposal, then so be it. “Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
“Since you asked—” She popped the button on her jeans and wriggled the denim and lace to her ankles, baring the lower half of her body. “It’s probably doable.”
“Doable?” Taking her left hand in his, he massaged her ring finger. “Is that a yes?”
A smile twitched on the corner of her mouth. “Sounded like it to me. Now drop your pants.”
Ryan put enough space between them to unzip his jeans and unleash his cock. “I didn’t bring a rubber.”
She wrapped her fingers around his dick, caressing him, taunting him. “I want skin to skin with my fiancé.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He entered her slick heat in one thrust. Her satiny softness clenched around him, drawing a shiver from deep in his soul. “Fuck, I won’t last.”
She bucked against him, creating their rhythm. “Just love me.”
“You feel so good.” His balls tightened as he pumped into her body. Her nails bit into his arms with each push. He captured her mouth in a kiss, swallowing her groan. Being inside of her, one force moving with her, he wasn’t sure where she started and he ended. She completed him and made him a better man. Hell yes, he wanted her ass wriggling against his cock as he slept with her in his arms. Forever.
“My Spirit Mate.”
Although she panted to catch her breath and didn’t utter an u
nderstandable response, he heard her loud and clear. “Mine.”
Ryan groaned as he spilled his seed deep within her womb. Samara shuddered underneath him, tugging him flush against her as she milked him. “Ho-ly fuck.”
Using his forearms to brace himself, Ryan covered her cheeks, chin and lips in kisses. “That’s my line.”
She threaded her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. A lazy, sated smile kinked her mouth. “You left me otherwise speechless.”
He sighed. “As much as I want to lay here limp in your arms, we need to go home. I’m not done loving you.” He stood and yanked his pants up past his hips. He marvelled at her beauty and sense of adventure. She deserved the world but fell in love with him. Finally luck ran his way.
“What are you thinking?” She righted her jeans and finger-combed her hair from her eyes. “I should be able to read you and it’s a bit fuzzy.”
“I need to get you a ring.” Tugging on her belt loops, he pulled her into his arms. “A diamond, or something more exotic? You strike me as the ruby type, if I had to guess.”
Samara snuggled in his embrace. “This is all the ring I need.”
“So I don’t need to buy a diamond?” Didn’t matter, she’d get the most beautiful ring he could find—in the morning.
“I wouldn’t turn one down. It is tradition.”
“Then let’s go home and start a few more traditions, including making love all night.” Leading her to the driver’s side door of her Monte Carlo, Ryan slid his hand into her back pocket. “First one home chooses which room we initiate next.”
“The other chooses who wears the handcuffs first?”
He slapped her ass as she wriggled from his arms. “Baby, you read my mind.”
Epilogue
“I now pronounce you man and wife. Ryan, you may kiss your bride.”
Felicity snorted as Ryan wrapped his arms around Samara. “She looks hideous in red. Weddings are white, or crème or ecru. Red is for date night and getting laid. Duh.”
Matilda dug her elbow into Felicity’s side. “Hush. Red is actually her colour. Brings out the caramel tones in her hair.” She brought her hands together in silent applause. “That tux should be bronzed. Fits him like a second skin.”
