by Susan Stoker
He chuckled and dropped the topic. “What do you want to eat?” Ghost asked as they were waiting for the concierge to come back with the luggage ticket.
“Fish and chips.”
“You sound sure.”
Rayne looked at Ghost incredulously. “I can’t be in England and not eat fish and chips! It’s got to be against the official tourist law or something!”
He smiled down at her and nodded. “Fish and chips it is.”
The concierge came back with their claim ticket and overheard Ghost’s comment.
“If you’re looking for a good restaurant, I recommend Mickey’s Fish and Chips. It’s behind Hyde Park, but you can take the Tube there pretty easily.”
Rayne loved listening to people speak with a British accent. She knew some people wouldn’t understand a word the man had just said, but apparently, Ghost was not only fluent in eyebrow language, but British English as well. “Thanks. That would be great.”
The concierge wrote down which subway trains they’d need to take to get close to the restaurant, and then he went further and gave them directions as to which lines would bring them back to the hotel, Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey as well, and handed it to Ghost.
He thanked them and they made their way out of the hotel toward the train station around the corner.
Rayne smiled when Ghost positioned himself on the curb, keeping her away from the street, as they made their way through the pedestrian traffic and to the huge train station. He bought their tickets and Rayne loved the feel of his hand on the small of her back as they stood on the escalators, taking them down to the next level to wait for the correct train.
“You’re pretty good at the whole subway thing, Ghost,” Rayne teased. “You know that just makes me think you’re a spy even more, right?”
Ghost smiled and looked at Rayne. Her cheeks were flushed with the heat of the day and the short walk to catch their subway car. Looking at her, he couldn’t help but remember her enthusiastic participation in their kiss in the back of the taxi. He’d been pleasantly surprised at how she’d thrown herself into it as wholeheartedly as she had.
“I’m used to traveling, and London’s public transportation is one of the best, and most easily navigable, in the world.”
Rayne simply shook her head, as he wouldn’t have heard her response anyway since a subway chose that minute to roar into view.
The doors opened and a large influx of people tried to push their way out at the same time the newcomers tried to push their way in. This was one of the reasons Rayne hated big cities and using the subway, she almost always came away with a few new bruises from fighting the masses.
Not today though. Ghost tucked her into his side and pushed through the crowd as if he was the King of England. He guided them to a bench and urged her to sit. Instead of settling next to her, he stood in front of her, once again protecting her from being jostled by riders getting on or off. He took hold of the bar above their heads and spread his legs enough for balance.
There were so many things Rayne wanted to say to him, but she felt self-conscious with all the people around them and the lack of privacy. She settled for smiling gratefully and watching him as he kept his eyes on the other people traveling in the car with them, as if they were terrorists and would blow them up. Rayne had no doubt that Ghost would leap into any situation and neutralize it. That was the kind of vibe she got from him, and it made her feel safe.
He stood with his profile to her and Rayne took the time to examine him. His biceps bulged as he held on to the strap above his head. His T-shirt molded to his body and Rayne swallowed hard. She was eye level with his crotch, and boy was it impressive. He was all man, and made her feel small and protected.
She tried to determine his height and finally decided since she came to about his chin that he had to be at least six-one or two. She was tall for a woman, and, even with her heels, was short compared to him. His body swayed with the movements of the train and Rayne closed her eyes, imagining his muscled arms around her, holding her body to his as he ever so slowly raised her shirt, never losing eye contact…
The train car lurched at the next stop and Rayne’s eyes popped open. Ghost was looking down at her with an inscrutable look. She used to think she was good at reading people’s faces, she had to be at her job, but she realized that she had absolutely no idea what Ghost was thinking. The car started moving, and he once again swung his gaze to the others around them, scrutinizing each person as if there would be a test when they got off about what everyone was wearing. Rayne had no doubt, if such a thing happened, he’d ace it.
After a few more stops, Ghost leaned down and told her, “Next stop is us.”
Rayne nodded and stood up to make her way to the doors. She felt Ghost’s arm go around her waist as the subway train began to slow. He was doing it to help her keep her balance, and to any casual observer it would’ve looked like a gentlemanly thing to do. But it felt like more to Rayne…it felt like a promise.
Ghost’s arm brushed against her breast as he moved it down her body, and Rayne could feel every inch of his hard body against her back as he pulled her into him. His palm rested low on her hip and she could feel his fingers gripping her tightly. His thumb wasn’t still, it was moving back and forth in a barely there caress. Even though only one arm was around her, Rayne felt surrounded by Ghost and as safe as if she were in her hometown back in the States.
The door opened and they shuffled out much as they had gotten into the car, with Ghost making sure no one bumped into or jostled her too harshly. After exiting the station and getting their bearings, they headed off toward Mickey’s.
The small shop was typically British. A Union Jack flag hung outside and the restaurant was small and dark inside. The menu, written on a chalkboard behind the long counter, included all kinds of fried fish. The air was filled with the smell of fish, batter, and potatoes. It was heavenly and Rayne could feel her stomach growling.
“See what you want?” Ghost asked, stepping up to the counter.
“Fish and chips, of course,” Rayne answered quickly. “Can’t come to London and to a fish and chip shop and get calamari or something.”
“Fish and chips it is then.” Ghost turned to the young man behind the counter and quickly ordered.
Rayne offered to pay and got such a disgruntled look from Ghost that she backed away and smiled with both hands up in appeasement. “Okay, okay, calm down. I had to offer.”
He shook his head, rolled his eyes at her, and pulled out some pounds to pay for their meal. They walked over to a small chipped table in the corner to wait.
She wasn’t surprised when Ghost pulled her chair out, then took the seat with his back to the wall. She searched for something interesting to say.
“So…got any tattoos?”
Ghost grinned. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
“Deal.” Rayne enjoyed the look of surprise on his face.
“Really? You’ve got a tattoo?”
“Don’t look so surprised, stud. I’m not as dorky as I look.”
“I would never call you dorky, Rayne. Polished, put-together and classy, but not dorky.”
“Well, thanks, I guess.”
“So…how many you got?”
Rayne sat back in her chair, crossed her arms in front of her, and put one leg over the other. “Three. You?”
“Really? Three?”
“Really.” Rayne watched as Ghost’s eyes ran up and down her body as if he could somehow see through her clothes to the tattoos he now knew were under them. “And you can’t see them with my clothes on.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Rayne blushed. They sounded a lot more suggestive out loud than they had in her head.
“Hmm, I can’t wait to see these mysterious pieces of ink.” Ghost’s words were innocent, but the tone behind them was intense enough to make her bite her lip and look away from his focused gaze.
“Two fish and chips. Order up!”
The interruption was welcome and Ghost got up to retrieve their food. He carried the baskets overflowing with greasy pieces of battered fish and thick fries back to the table and asked if Rayne wanted ketchup to go with her meal. Shaking her head, Rayne didn’t wait for Ghost to start. She took a french fry, what the Brits called a chip, and bit into it with a groan. It was hot, almost hot enough to burn her mouth, but so greasy and so good.
They ate in silence for a while before Rayne asked, “How many do you have?”
Ghost knew exactly what she was talking about. “One.”
“Just one?”
“Yup.”
“I guess a spy like you can’t afford to have too many tattoos that could be recognized by the bad guys, huh?”
Ghost almost choked on the water he’d been drinking. He knew she was teasing, but her words were a bit closer to the truth than she knew. He played it off. “Oh yeah.” He drew out the word and continued with a thick Russian accent, “Can’t have the enemies recognizing my tattoos.”
She giggled and pointed at him with a fry. “I knew it!”
Ghost leaned over and took a bite out of the errant fry, laughing when she shrieked at him, “Hey! That’s mine! Eat your own fries!”
It’d been quite a while since he’d had such a good time with a female. Typically, either he or she was thinking too much about where the night would end, rather than enjoying the time at hand. And while he’d imagined what Rayne would look like, mussed and satisfied next to him in bed, he was actually enjoying the anticipation more than usual. It was as though a warm blanket wrapped around him, engulfing him in happy feelings, rather than the knife edge of lust he usually felt before taking a woman to bed.
They finished their meal and Ghost pushed his empty basket away, put his elbows on the table and leaned toward Rayne. “So, what do you want to do today?”
She immediately shrugged. “I don’t know, what do you want to do?”
He tsked at her. “Come on, Rayne. I know you’ve thought about it. What would you do if it was just you and had a free day here in London?”
“If you really want to know…” Her voice trailed off.
“I really want to know. I asked, didn’t I?”
“That doesn’t mean you really wanted to know. People do that all the time, they—”
“Rayne…spit it out.”
Instead of getting pissed at him for interrupting her, she laughed. “Okay, okay, Mr. Spy Man. Keep your shirt on. I definitely want to see Westminster Abbey and of course Big Ben. And if it’s not too far away, Buckingham Palace.”
Ghost nodded, assuming those would be on her list. “What about the Tower of London? Or the prime meridian?”
“The prime what?”
“Meridian. It’s where the longitude starts over.”
“Huh? Starts over?”
“Yeah. If you were looking at a GPS, it’s the precise location where the east numbers change to west. If you stand just right, holding the GPS, the Western coordinates would read, 000.00.000.”
“Hmm, that sounds like something only a super-spy would be interested in seeing, to be honest.”
Ghost threw his head back and laughed. Truly laughed for the first time in a really long time. He pushed away from the table and grabbed up their trash. “Come on, we’ll start with Westminster Abbey and go from there then.”
Chapter Four
Ghost watched Rayne’s face as they walked around Westminster Abbey. He’d taken hold of her hand when they’d left the fish and chip place, and hadn’t let go. Luckily, she didn’t seem inclined to let go of him either.
She was adorable. Rayne oohed and ahhed at everything. Ghost was a hard man. He’d seen too much in his thirty-six years to be surprised, or even impressed, by much anymore. But seeing London though Rayne’s eyes was a completely different experience. He tended to rush through life, seeing things but not analyzing them past what threat they posed…unless of course it had to do with life or death. His life or death or the life or death of his teammates.
But Rayne’s eyes were big as she listened to the tour guide discuss the various dead kings and queens who were entombed inside the huge church. Occasionally she’d squeeze his hand and lean over and whisper, “Wow” or “Can you believe that?” to him.
Of course, Ghost could only think about her curvy body pressing against his side, the feel of her breast, her hipbone pressing against his…every movement made him hope she’d choose to spend the night in his bed rather than go her separate way.
The kiss they shared in the taxi was seared on his brain. She’d melted into his embrace as if she’d been doing it her entire life. The soft sighs and moans that had come from her throat as he’d devoured her mouth only made him long to hear them as he devoured the rest of her. She was a mix of innocent and jaded, and the dichotomy piqued his interest…big time.
“It’s so hard to believe we’re standing right where Princess Diana got married. And her son. This is such an amazing piece of history—and we’re here!” Rayne whispered in a reverent voice.
They’d hung back from the small group of tourists following the volunteer guide. Ghost backed them into an alcove and pulled Rayne flush with the front of his body as he leaned against the ancient stones. He clasped his hands at the small of her back and smiled as she leaned into him, resting her forearms on his chest.
“I bet you’ve watched Princess Diana’s wedding on the Internet, haven’t you?” Ghost asked with a completely straight face, already knowing the answer.
“Oh yes,” Rayne breathed. “She was so beautiful. She had that extremely long train that her little cousins helped carry. And she was here. Right here. It’s amazing.”
Ghost felt the first stirrings of unease as Rayne continued on.
“And William and Kate got married here too. I can almost hear the music as she walked down the aisle.” Rayne sighed and looked over her shoulder at the beautiful vestibule. “It’s a fairy tale and it’s really hard to believe I’m actually here.”
“You’re a romantic,” Ghost said in a weird voice.
Rayne’s head came back around and she looked up at him. She nodded. “Yeah. Always have been, always will be.”
“The world isn’t a fairy tale, Rayne,” Ghost warned, again feeling a sense of foreboding creeping over him.
“I know it’s not. I’m not an idiot. I might like to read romances and watch romantic comedies, but I’m a realist.”
“I don’t think—”
Rayne interrupted him. She leaned back and dug her nails into his chest. Ghost thought she was probably doing it unconsciously.
“Last week I was on a flight with a woman who was flying to New York to undergo an experimental surgery for colon cancer. She was traveling alone and I felt bad for her. So after I’d served the drinks, I sat and talked to her. Her husband couldn’t go with her because he had to work. He didn’t have any sick time left and she was on his health insurance. They couldn’t afford for him to lose his job, so she had to fly up there by herself. I can’t imagine how scared she was, or how her husband felt about not being able to be by her side.
“The week before that, I noticed a woman with a black eye sitting next to a very big, very pissed-off man, who I can only assume was her husband. It was obvious she was being abused, but there was nothing I could do about it. Also the other week, I had the displeasure of having to try to please a man and woman and their two kids. The kids were out of control, and the parents didn’t care. All they wanted to do was drink as many of the little bottles of alcohol as we’d serve them.”
She leaned into Ghost as if it would help make her point. “I can tell you think being a romantic is a bad thing, and while I freely admit to wanting to find a man to spend the rest of my life with, I do know the world isn’t always sunshine and roses. Most of the time it’s overcast skies and poison ivy. That’s why I read the books and watch the movies I do. If the only way I can experience romance is through my imagination and fairy-tale books
and the weddings of English Royalty, I’m going to do it. Don’t burst my bubble, Ghost. Please, let me have this.”
Ghost wanted to argue, to tell her there were more assholes in the world than princes, and reading romance novels or watching sappy movies wouldn’t ever change that fact. He wanted to make sure she knew that he wasn’t a prince. He might not be quite as big of an asshole as the people he met in his job, but he didn’t want her under any illusion that what he hoped they would be doing later would lead to a Lifetime movie or anything.
“Come on, come sit with me.”
He towed her over to one of the many pews in the huge church and urged her down the bench until they reached the middle. He sat down and waited for Rayne to sit next to him. She sat uneasily and he could see the tight grip she had on the seat by the way her knuckles turned white.
Ghost hadn’t meant to upset her, but he needed to make his point. He didn’t want her falling for him. He knew he should get up and leave her to the rest of her day before she read more into what they were probably going to do that night than he could give, but he wasn’t going to. He needed this woman. Her quirky personality had burrowed under his skin and he wanted her. More than he’d wanted a woman in a long, long time.
“I’m not a romantic guy, Rayne. I don’t have it inside me to be in a relationship.”
“Bull.”
“Rayne—”
“No, seriously.” She turned toward him on the bench. “I’ll believe you when you say you don’t want a relationship, but I will never believe you when you say you aren’t romantic.”
“I’ve never given a woman flowers in all my life. I’ve never proposed, hell, I don’t usually stick around long enough to tell a woman I’ve had a good time.”
His words hurt, but Rayne pushed it down. She’d known what she was in for when she’d first decided to bum around London with him. But she wanted to make sure he got where she was coming from, whether he liked it or not. “Fine, maybe you’re a bit of a Neanderthal when it comes to relationships. You’re not perfect. Great. I get it. But, Ghost, you are romantic.”
