by Deanna Chase
Boho Lady glanced over and gave me a nod of approval. “Those will go over well. Not as good as this though.” She waved a hand at her cake, which was now covered in fondant.
Whoa. In the short time she’d been working, she’d transformed the basic chocolate cake into a perfectly-sculpted replica of eight-pack abs, narrow hips, and low-slung blue jeans with the button open. “Dang, girl, you’ve got skills.”
A satisfied smile claimed her lips. “I might have been practicing.”
That seemed like a lot of effort for a free cruise, considering she was already on this one. But who was I to judge? Some people were just competitive.
“Pyper!” Ida May squealed from behind me. “He’s on the move.”
I turned, noting a splash of melted chocolate on the floor. “Who took the chocolate?”
“Her.” She pointed across the stage at a voluptuous redhead. “That hussy leaned over the chocolate, giving him an eyeful of her girls, and that was enough. As soon as she took a quart of the chocolate, he followed her. I just knew he was a two-timing scoundrel.”
Two-timing? Hadn’t she just met him an hour or two ago? I shook my head. Her shenanigans weren’t the point. I shifted my gaze to the redhead. She was holding a bottle of rum in one hand and a tall, slender double shot glass in the other.
Bootlegger was hovering over the open bottle of rum, licking his lips.
I frowned. What was he—
Then he moved. In a flash he evaporated into smoke and dove straight into the bottle. A small amount of rum bubbled out of the top and dribbled down the side.
Without thinking, I hurried over to the woman, my hand outstretched, reaching for the bottle.
“Whoa.” She jerked the bottle to her chest, cradling it against her bosom. “Sorry, honey. You’re too late. This is mine.” She winked. “I can’t make my special rum-and-cherry balls if someone else is hogging the rum.”
Before I could answer, she turned back around to the crowd as if I were dismissed and started lining up her double shot glasses.
Crap.
Bootlegger was actually in that bottle.
Maggie’s voice boomed through the sound system. “Looks like we have a little competition when it comes to the spirits.”
I turned, my eyes wide. How did she know—?
“Only one person can use the rum,” she said to me, not unkindly. “It’s always a popular item when we do the Bake-Off. Perhaps the amaretto? Or Irish cream?”
Oh. Of course she meant the alcohol, not Bootlegger. I sighed, wondering if I should even do anything at all. He was just a ghost, not a witch. He’d need magic to invade someone’s soul. Right?
Just then I glanced over at the redhead. She was pouring the rum into the eight shot glasses as if she were an expert bartender, never breaking the flow of the liquid until each glass was filled.
Silvery ghost matter slid in and out of the bottle and then settled, and a trail of matter flickered from the top like a smoke signal. It appeared Bootlegger was quite happy wallowing in his rum. Heck, if I’d been a ghost for the past however many years, I might like it there too.
The buzzer indicating my cupcakes were done went off, and I rushed to pull them out of the oven. As I was positioning them on the cooling rack, the redhead smiled at the crowd and raised the bottle high toward the audience. “Who wants a drink?” she called.
Hands rose in the air, followed by two enthusiastic men jostling for position at the front of the stage.
She eyed them. “Aren’t you boys cute?”
“Drink, drink, drink,” the crowd chanted.
I had my eyes glued to the rum, and my throat went dry when I saw the silvery substance float out of the bottle, hover there, and then zip back down. What would happen if someone drank that?
“You!” Redhead pointed at the man directly in front of her. He was tall and had wide shoulders and long, muscular legs. With short blond hair and a clean-cut image, he sported a typical college-football-player look. He reached out for the bottle almost as if in slow motion while I ran forward.
“Wait!” I cried.
But the crowd was too loud, and no one was paying any attention to me. Not that they would’ve cared anyway. I’d already been told the rum was off-limits to me.
“Give it up,” Boho Lady said, moving to stand next to me as we watched the spectacle go down. “You’re cute, but you have nothing on Miss Curves over there. A hundred bucks says she wins based solely on her cleavage. She could pour shots of booze and serve chocolate kisses as a side and still win this competition. It’s always about the cleavage, dear.”
I frowned, eyeing the football player as he waved his arms, igniting the crowd to cheer louder. “Then why are you here?” I asked, leaning in close so she could hear me.
She pointed to a person standing off to the side, pen in hand as he scribbled notes in a notebook. “Reporter for Chef Magazine. If I can get a mention there, sales will triple. We see it all the time.”
“I see.” I stared at her perfect cake, the one that looked like a flawless replica of a romance novel. She’d done some sort of shading to give the abs definition and had added the logo of a popular publisher off to the side for effect. It was nothing short of amazing.
“Do you? Why are you here? The free trip?” She snorted, clearly discounting my chances of winning.
“Uh, no. I just got roped into doing this. I don’t really care one way or another.”
“That explains why you’re standing around looking like a lost puppy.” She shoved some more modeling chocolate into my hands. “Here, make something. Anything. Otherwise you look like an idiot standing there, gaping at Scarlett O’Hara over there.”
I took it just to appease her. But she had distracted me from the rum bottle.
Football-player guy was standing on the stage now next to Scarlett, holding the bottle high in the air.
Ida May was flying around them, wringing her hands as she cried, “No! Don’t do it. Bootlegger, get out of that bottle right now. If you even think about having sex with this… this… harlot, that’s it. We’re done. That thing I said I’d let you do? Forget it. The offer is off the table.”
Something stirred in the bottle, then I heard the sound of gargled laughter echo through the room. It was so loud I cringed and wanted to cover my ears. But glancing around, it was clear no one else but Ida May and me had heard anything.
“Bootlegger!” She whirled and turned to me. “Do something. He’s going to make his move!”
I stood there, totally helpless. What exactly was I supposed to do? Knock the bottle out of the guy’s hands? Mr. College Football had to have at least a hundred pounds on me. I didn’t stand a chance.
Turning to the crowd, I spotted Julius. He was busy staring at the football player with an almost bored expression. But then the cheering crowd broke out into applause, and Julius’s eyes widened. I turned and stared at Scarlett and Mr. Football. He had the rum tipped to his lips, the bottle bathed in a glowing amber light.
I let out a gasp.
Magic.
There was no other explanation.
And when Football Guy finally tore the bottle away from his lips, he gave Scarlett a crooked grin and his blue eyes darkened and then shifted to brilliant green. It was exactly the same expression I’d seen on Bootlegger’s face just before he’d jumped into the vat of chocolate. He bowed slightly to Scarlett. “Thank ye, my lady. It’s been over a hundred years since I’ve felt the sweet burn of the spirits in my throat.”
She giggled, enjoying his performance.
His gaze turned wolfish as he wrapped an arm around her waist and tilted her back. “And even longer since I’ve tasted anything so fine.”
Then Bootlegger closed the distance and kissed her.
9
“Oh, hell!” I covered my mouth, afraid to call attention to myself, but I needn’t have worried. The crowd erupted into catcalls and wolf whistles, drowning me out. I stood a few feet from the pair, frozen with i
ndecision. My instinct was to tear them apart, but by the way they were tightly wrapped around each other, I had little hope of success.
“Do something!” Ida May cried, flying around me in a state of agitation.
“Like what?” It wasn’t like I knew either of them. I couldn’t just pull one of them away. Heck, Scarlett was even returning the kiss with full enthusiasm. But I couldn’t do nothing. The poor college guy had been possessed. Even if he was okay with making out with a stranger, he wasn’t in control, and that was all kinds of wrong.
“Make something up. Or get Julius to zap them. I don’t know.” She darted away, yelling at Bootlegger, though the pirate paid her no mind.
Zapping them wasn’t a bad idea. I glanced over at Julius. He was staring at the spectacle with his eyebrows raised and a small amused smile on his face. Clearly he hadn’t realized Bootlegger had taken over. I’d have to find a way to get to him if I was going to have his help.
You don’t need Julius, Lily, one of my guides, said as she materialized beside me. Her bright red hair curled around her face, highlighting her striking gray eyes. She was young for a ghost, maybe midthirties, and usually soft-spoken. You have the power to dispel him all on your own.
“How’s that?” I asked, no longer worried about anyone overhearing me. The crowd was either too hopped up on sugar or too drunk to worry about anything I was doing. Especially when Scarlett and Bootlegger were giving them an after-hours show.
He’s just a visitor in that man’s body. Possession takes a powerful spell, much more powerful than the transfer spell Bootlegger used.
“So he did use a spell. Was he a witch before he died?”
Lily nodded. Not a very powerful one. But a witch, nonetheless.
I glanced at Julius again. He was now staring at me, his brows furrowed. He’d noticed me talking to myself, though I was certain he knew I was talking to either one of my guides, Ida May, or Bootlegger himself.
“How do I dispel him?” I asked Lily, keeping my eyes on Julius.
You’d have to pull him out.
“How?”
She gave me a wry smile. You have to suck him out.
“What?” I turned and stared her in the eye, horrified. “You mean like a succubus sucks a soul?”
She nodded, already fading away, and just as she disappeared again, I heard her add, It’s not as bad as it seems. You’ll see.
Like hell. No way was I putting my lips on some stranger. Or gads, sucking ghost matter from them. Especially Bootlegger. A shudder ran through me. What if he decided to take up residence in me? The thought of Julius kissing me with Bootlegger as the third wheel made my stomach roll. Nope. Not now. Not ever. I needed Julius for this one.
I moved to jump off the stage, intending to grab Julius, but the crowd was starting to grow as more people poured into the room. A good portion of them were holding specialty cocktails and wearing feathered boas, a sure sign they’d just come from another bar, the Mardi Gras Lounge. What did the ship do? Make an announcement? Because suddenly the place was packed.
“You better hurry,” Boho Lady said breathlessly as she pushed past me, reaching for a pair of wineglasses. “Five minutes until voting starts.”
Crap. They likely had made an announcement. Julius was crowded in on all sides in the middle of the room. I tried to motion to him, to get him to join me, but he was turned around, facing the entrance instead of the stage.
What was he doing?
“Two-minute warning!” Maggie announced into the microphone. “Place your creations on the front table for judging.”
I glanced at my table and groaned. I still had some work to do on my cupcakes. Not that it mattered. I didn’t care about winning, only my pride. I had a reputation to uphold after all. It wouldn’t be good business if I came in last place in a baking contest. The Grind was known for delicious pastries. If the NOLA Times picked up the story, I couldn’t afford to look like an amateur.
I kept one eye on Scarlett and College Guy while I hurried to place my premade bikini tops and bottoms fondant onto my cupcakes. The cream cheese filling had created an indentation in the center, causing a sad sagging situation right in the middle. I grimaced. If I’d had more time, I’d have filled that section with caramel or more cream cheese, but there was no fixing it now. I’d never win this contest, but at least I had something to show for it.
Scarlett was busy arranging her rum shots with chocolate rum balls on one side and chocolate-covered cherries on the other. “I call it the Love Shot,” she said to me conspiratorially as I placed my tray of cupcakes on the table.
I gave a noncommittal nod and eyed Mr. College Guy. His hungry, bright green eyes—Bootlegger’s eyes—were locked on her butt.
“Twenty bucks says these beauties are the winners,” my round neighbor said to me as he placed his chocolate penis pops on the table.
I glanced over, noting he’d arranged them like a bouquet on a florist’s ball and had wrapped the handle in red silk. It did look pretty… if you didn’t register that they were, in fact, penis replicas.
“I’ll take that bet,” Boho Lady said, her hands on her hips as she studied the table.
He glanced over at her perfectly sculpted male torso cake and gulped. “Make it ten.”
She laughed. “You’re on.”
I held up my hands, indicating I was out of the betting, and inched toward Bootlegger, determined not to let him out of my sight.
“Time!” Maggie called. “Hands off your desserts!”
The six of us took a step back from the table. I glanced at my cupcakes and winced. The dip in the center had only gotten worse, and now instead of cute bikini tops and bottoms, they looked like I’d intentionally made saggy boobs with matching wedgies. Yikes.
“Better luck next time,” Boho Lady said, sympathy in her tone.
I shrugged. It didn’t matter. Not really. Any publicity was good publicity, right?
Maggie was busy showing off our creations to the spectators. I’d lost Julius among the crowd. But College Guy—Bootlegger—was just a few feet from me and had started to get fidgety. Ida May had disappeared as well. She’d probably depleted all her energy from yelling at Bootlegger. There was no telling when she’d be back.
College Guy shuffled from foot to foot, his eyes shifting back and forth as if paranoia had taken over. I placed a light hand on his arm.
He jumped, pulling away from me. “Don’t.”
I held my hands up in a surrender motion. “I’m here to help.”
His eyes turned from brilliant green to ocean blue and he shook his head, fear and anxiety etched all over his face. College Guy had at least momentarily pushed aside Bootlegger. “You can’t help with this.”
“I can. We just need to—”
“Stop meddlin’ in matters that are no concern to you, woman,” College Guy’s voice turned sharp and irritated as those eyes flickered back to green.
Bootlegger. He was back.
College Guy was fighting his presence and losing.
“Let him go,” I said, my tone low and full of rage. “What you’re doing is wrong.”
“Wrong?” Bootlegger laughed. “Wait until you’ve been a ghost for over a hundred years. Then we’ll see what you’re willing to do to remember what a woman feels like under ye.”
I gave him a flat stare.
His lips turned up into a twisted smile. “You look like the type.”
Holy hell.
His eyes flashed blue again, and he took a step back, shaking his head. “I didn’t… I mean I wouldn’t…” He stared at me, confusion making his mouth work, but the words weren’t coming. How could they? No one expected to be hijacked by a ghost pirate.
“You’re okay,” I said reassuringly, reaching out once more. This time he let me, and when my fingers brushed his arm, a small tremor ran through him. His eyes closed and he took a slow, steadying breath.
Leaning in, he lowered his voice. “What’s happening to me?”
; The fear and uncertainty in the young man’s tone made anger surge through me. Bootlegger had to go. Now.
Lily’s words rang in my head. You don’t need Julius.
Would he even know a spell off the top of his head to expel a ghost? He might. I glanced back to where I’d last seen him, but he was still missing. Where had he gone? I had no idea, but I couldn’t worry about it right then. The crowd was too thick and wound up for me to go look for him, and leaving College Guy was out of the question.
“Number four, Romance Between the Covers by Sunshine Fable!” Maggie was saying as she waved at Boho Lady. The crowd cheered and whistled, showing her their approval.
“What’s your name?” I asked College Guy.
“Cal,” he said and glanced over at Scarlett, frowning. “Do I know her?”
I shook my head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“But she… uh…” He held up a plastic room key. “I think I’m supposed to be meeting her later.”
I sighed. Talk about forward. Chances were Scarlett didn’t know his name either. “That’s entirely up to you if you want to take her up on that offer, but I want to make sure it’s you who’s really making that decision.”
“Huh?” His fingers tightened around the plastic keycard as he watched her, but then suddenly he shoved the key in his back pocket and whipped around, bringing his face inches from mine. “Stay out of it, medium.”
I glared into Bootlegger’s green eyes. “Not a chance.”
He jerked back and gave me a sinister smile as he reached for Scarlett. She was busy waving to the crowd, too distracted to notice. But before he could snake his arm around her waist, I stepped between them and ignored the revulsion coursing through me as I grabbed his cheeks and kissed him.
Well, more like covered his lips with mine and breathed in his air.
All the noise, the crowd, the milling of people around us faded away. Static filled my ears and shifted to a low, buzzing noise.
Then I heard Bootlegger clear as day. “Nooooo! You’ll pay for this, you meddlin’ fool.”
