by Nina Bruhns
Was Ry sort of skulking behind her? Was he hiding? Na, not possible.
The plants burst into full-fledged flame.
“Fire,” Madam screamed, jerking upward and away from the window. Something flew out of her hand and into the flames. “Oh, no. The medal.”
“You stupid woman. How could you have dropped it?” Kopeleski started beating at the fire that had now spread to other pots on the balcony. He seemed more concerned with the medal than with the fire creeping within inches of the bottom of his tux.
All of a sudden, Ry appeared with a garden hose that trailed from his hands and back toward the direction of his house. He turned the nozzle and water sprayed forth. Giselle, who stood under the balcony, got doused. When, finally, the water dripped to a stop, Giselle looked up to see that the fire was out. Steam seemed to rise from a dripping-wet Kopeleski. Drenched, he was as mad as wet wizard. Uh-oh.
Madam sputtered and shook the water off her hair. She looked like a shipwreck victim. Oh, too bad. Not. She deserved it. Fat indeed.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ry said.
“If he were a real psychic wizard he would have seen what was going to happen.” Giselle crossed her hands over her chest defensively.
Ry answered with an arched eyebrow. “Well, I don’t need psychic ability to see that he’s at the head of our list of suspects for those attempts on your life. If he didn’t have a motive to kill you before tonight, he sure does now.”
It was Sunday, 12:23 a.m. Giselle still had no ghost and she was wet. But at least Ry had made headway by starting to formulate a list of people who wanted to kill her. That made her feel better. Not a lot better, but better.
A Girl, a Guy and a Ghost: Chapter Seven
Wet and muddy. That’s what Giselle was by the time she and Ry reached his house. The wet was from Ry’s hose, but the muddy was from the clumps of dirt Kopeleski had pelted her with as she’d run away from the scene of the fire. The dirt must have come from the flowerpots on the wizard’s balcony because pieces of petunia, along with the mud, decorated her hair. Well, it could have been worse. Maybe. A little. Kopeleski could have thrown stones.
Ry—ever the gentleman—had offered to let her take a shower before going back to her hotel. Gentleman. Yeah, sure. But she’d taken him up on the offer anyway. It wouldn’t look good to be seen in the hotel lobby twice in less than four hours, wet and bedraggled. Hotel staff would start wondering whether she had competed in some sort of strange, wet t-shirt, contest.
Maybe she had without being aware of it. Yeah, with her luck, she’d unknowingly starred in some extraterrestrial reality show. Planet Earth’s funniest home videos. Somewhere in another galaxy a four-eyed host introduced the next clip. “And now let’s see how many times in one night we can get Giselle Hunter into dripping duds.” Laugh track.
When Giselle emerged from the shower, she slipped back into her panties. However, as she looked at the grimy pile that was her clothing, she knew she couldn’t bear to put any of that mess back on. Giselle glanced around her. The only other garment she could find was hung on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. A denim shirt that obviously belonged to Ry.
She lifted it off the hook and held it to her face. It had that unique Ry smell. She had to be crazy. Here she was, in the bathroom, sniffing clothes and getting a buzz just from the smell of a man.
Sliding her arms into the garment, she decided Ry wouldn’t mind if she borrowed it. The shirt fell to mid-thigh. Giselle examined herself in the bathroom mirror. The modest outfit could pass for a dress, she assured herself. So what if she was practically naked underneath.
Gathering her own dirty clothes in her hands, Giselle opened the bathroom door and crept into Ry’s bedroom. She needn’t have bothered trying to sneak about because there he was, in front of her. Ry waited for her on the other side of the bedroom, all bare-chested and scrumptious in blue jeans. A golden-skinned God. Just the thinnest trace of blond hair trailed downward from his navel to disappear beneath his jeans. What an enticing trail.
Giselle’s eyes met Ry’s across the room. She was in trouble now. Ry walked toward her all loose-limbed and predatory. If he was the predator, then that made her the prey. Very willing prey.
Wanton Vixen Giselle whispered in one ear, Yeah, baby. Go for it.
Rational Angel Giselle whispered in the other ear, Don’t mix business and pleasure.
Oooo. Pleasure. Vixen Giselle again.
Ry crept closer.
Rational Angel warned, Don’t mess with him. He’ll hurt you. He’s obviously a player. Just look at him.
Wanton Vixen argued, Oooh, yeah. Just look at him! All chiseled jaw, chiseled pecs, and probably chiseled something else.
He’d almost closed to within touching distance now.
Rational Angel reappeared. You barely know him. You haven’t even been on one date. He won’t respect a slut.
Heck…Who cares about that?, Wanton Vixen said.
Wait ’til the third date at least.
Wanton Vixen was quiet a moment. She’s right. You gotta play a little hard to get. You gotta wait at least until after the third date.
“Urmmm. Do you have a washer and dryer?” Giselle asked with what she hoped was a nonchalant tone. She held up the dirty clothes in her right hand.
With his green eyes glittering in amusement, she knew her tone hadn’t discouraged him. He just kept walking toward her. Inexorably. Inevitably. He stopped directly in front of her. Without looking away from her eyes, his right hand came up to stroke her cheek. His left took the bundle from her hand and tossed it into the air behind him before his hand returned to caress up her arm to her shoulder.
Ry leaned forward and gently kissed her lips. His mouth opened on hers and his tongue licked her mouth. Her lips widened and his tongue slipped inside. He had a delicious minty taste, as if he’d just brushed his teeth. Oooh, he was perfect.
Giselle’s eyes drifted shut. Sparks shot across the blackness of her eyelids as Ry’s tongue danced with hers once more. Then he pulled back. Giselle practically moaned at the loss. She felt almost drugged as she opened her suddenly heavy lids.
Like a mischievous cat who’d discovered some very sweet cream, he smiled. Hmmm. That must mean she was the cream. Then Ry tugged Giselle forward while he stepped back. Her palms braced against the planes of his chest as she resisted the movement. But she only resisted a little. Ooooh, his chest was hard.
“Remember you promised I could have something soft to lie on next time you were on top of me,” Ry said. He took another step.
“Why, yes. I think I did,” Giselle gulped out.
“You promised I could pick the spot.”
“Yes.”
“The bed is soft,” Ry said with a nod toward the bed behind him. He tugged her a little harder and Giselle fell forward a step.
“When you’re right, you’re right,” Giselle admitted.
“So, I pick the bed.”
His wry grin was sexy and devastating to her rational mind. His logic seemed so perfect, although she was sure there was a flaw in there somewhere.
“Well, I did promise,” Giselle admitted.
At her agreement, he fell backward onto the bed. Giselle lay sprawled on top of him for the third time in two days. Ry buried his hand in her hair and brought her face down to his. His tongue licked along her closed lips until they opened for another deep kiss. His lips were hot. His tongue was warm and sensual.
She pulled away to sit up, her knees on either side of his jeans-clad hips. He was spread out beneath her on the white bedspread like an endless banquet just waiting to be feasted upon. She remembered the advice of both Rational Angel and Wanton Vixen.
“I don’t think I should be doing this. We haven’t been on even one date,” Giselle said, wiggling a bit and starting to edge off his body. Ry moaned.
“You’re wrong.” He held her knees in place. “If you count you’ll see that we’ve had at least three dates.” Ry’s hands caressed
upward to her thighs.
She felt the calluses on his palms as they moved under the denim shirt.
Giselle stopped his hands when they reached her hips. “Three? I don’t remember three dates.”
“We met at the café last night. I remember being bowled over by you on sight,” he coaxed.
That was true. She allowed his hands to inch upward to her waist as a reward.
“It was probably my incomparable beauty and grace that did it.”
“I think your gracefulness is kind of cute.”
Cute. Great. Cute was okay. But devastating beauty would have been better.
“Then for our first date we had drinks at the Pink House,” Ry continued. “At least I had drinks,” he ended wryly.
“Uh-huh. As I recall, the drinks were on you.” Giselle said as Ry’s wandering right hand caressed the small of her back. His fingers played her piano keys. What had she been holding out for again? Oh, yeah. She didn’t want him to think she was easy.
“But that’s only one date,” she gasped out as she pushed at his hands. They didn’t budge.
“Our second date was lunch in the closet. You made me crazy in that closet. You teased me unmercifully in that closet.” One of Ry’s hands lowered from the small of her back to stroke her cheek, and it wasn’t the cheek of her face.
Omigod. She thought she would explode just from that caress.
“Ah yes, I remember now,” she panted, suddenly breathless. She allowed his other hand to inch farther up to her rib cage. “But what about our third date?” She could barely get the words out.
Ry lifted his head from the bed and delivered a long, luscious lick to the inside of her elbow. Giselle gasped. Who knew that such an innocent area of the body could be so erogenous?
“The third date was just earlier tonight. Dinner and a movie. The movie was some improbable comedy about a séance interrupted by a fire.” He moved upward to nip along her shoulder to her neck and then to her lips. More tongue action.
Yeeessss! Three dates! Wanton Vixen yelled in her ear.
“Oh, yes,” Giselle moaned when his head fell back to the bed. “You are so right. Three dates.”
Now both of Ry’s hands moved upward to cup her breasts.
She leaned forward and sipped at his full mouth. Then she kissed her way down his chin to his neck. Giselle stroked one hand down his chest. She played briefly with his navel. An innie. It was perfect like the rest of his body. Giselle hesitated. Her own body wasn’t so perfect. Should she go through with this?
Ry groaned. “Don’t stop now. You’re just getting to the best part.” His eyes laughed even though his face was strained with desire.
Giselle chuckled. “If you do say so yourself.” She grasped the tab on the zipper of his jeans and pulled it down. “Well, that answers one of my burning questions,” Giselle said when she had completed the task.
“What question?” Ry groaned.
“Boxers or briefs?” Giselle teased. “I never thought it would be commando.” Giselle delved into the parted denim. Ry gasped and jerked beneath her.
“There’s a condom in the bedside table,” Ry managed to grit out.
It was a stretch, but Giselle was able to reach the drawer, pull it open and find the prize inside without losing contact of Ry’s body. “Ta-da!” she said, holding up the package. “How do these things work again?”
Suddenly, he twisted and Giselle found herself on her back with Ry covering her. “You talk too much,” Ry said, and then pressed a long, wet kiss to her mouth, finishing with a lick. He pulled his jeans off, retrieved the condom from her hand and dealt quickly with the task himself.
The denim shirt had worked its way to Giselle’s waist so Ry found no impediment as he slid his hand into the waistband of her panties and yanked them roughly down. Giselle kicked them away impatiently.
Ry spread her legs and then gazed down at her. “You’re beautiful.”
“Hurry,” she said. “I want you now.”
So much for him not thinking you’re slutty, Wanton Vixen laughed at the back of her mind. Giselle ignored her.
Ry moved to lie between her thighs and Giselle held him against her.
When he began to unbutton the denim shirt she wore, Giselle stopped his hands.
“Let’s leave it on,” she said, uncertain about revealing her full figure. Particularly, her D-cup size.
“I want to see all of you.” With shaking fingers he pulled at the buttons. Then Ry parted the fabric to reveal Giselle’s breasts…and the rest of her. As he looked down at her, he smiled. “You’re gorgeous,” he said. Eyes gleaming.
Bending, he kissed her breast. Giselle cried out. She couldn’t help arching. Writhing against Ry. She scored his back with her nails.
Both of her hands urged him forward. Ry took the hint and thrust into her. Breath rushed from Giselle in a whoosh as she felt a slight pinching. It had been awhile since she’d been with someone. But it was only a moment before her body adjusted itself to his size. The penetration was rough. Filling her. No room left inside that he didn’t fill. Ry pulled back.
“Don’t stop,” she groaned.
“I don’t think I can stop. You feel like heaven,” Ry answered as he shoved forward again and moved rhythmically against her. He moved inside her, hard and deep. Each thrust increasing in force until she teetered on the precipice of a climax.
She loved the feel of his big body over and in hers. The friction of him inside her as he moved. The hair of muscled thighs tickling at her skin. His broad chest rubbing against her chest. The sweat of his body mingling with hers. His eyes stared into hers. His jaw clenched as he moved.
So intimate. So right.
He drove her on. She couldn’t stop. They were all flesh, moisture and breath. With her climax, she screamed. “
“Aghhh.” Growling, he released.
Ry collapsed and rested his cheek against Giselle’s breast. Giselle held him there, stroking his soft, wavy hair as emotions rushed through her. Tears swam in her eyes but she didn’t let them fall.
Giselle shifted under his weight.
“Don’t go anywhere, I’m not through with you,” Ry grumbled. “If you’re up to it,” he added.
“I’ll take that as a personal challenge,” Giselle choked out.
* * *
The next morning the sun had barely risen when Giselle awoke to see Ry staring off into space at the bedroom window. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and a smile on his face. A contented smile, Giselle was pleased to see.
She was even more pleased to see that he was completely nude. Michelangelo’s David was Quasimodo in comparison to Ry.
Giselle could feel that her face had a pleased smile of its own. She stretched atop the sheets. It was too hot for covers. Besides, with all the things they’d done last night, she no longer had anything to hide. Giselle didn’t have a lot of experience to compare it with, but she was fairly certain that last night had been unbelievable on the scale of amorous adventures.
“Ry,” she said sleepily, and she hoped sexily. “Come back to bed. It’s your turn to rub my back…and my front.”
At the window, Ry was abruptly tense and alert. “Oh, F@#k!.”
“Ry, why are you using the 'F' word and not in a good way?” Giselle sat up, pulling the sheet across her body.
He stomped to the closet and pulled out a black dress shirt. Ry shrugged into the shirt, thrusting his arms into each sleeve hole while muttering various obscenities. He jerked on jeans in a similarly vicious manner.
Giselle got out of bed and retrieved Ry's shirt from the crumpled heap it had landed in at the foot of the bed. She slipped on the shirt.
“Ry, why are we getting dressed?”
He didn’t answer. Mumbled curses continued.
Giselle had begun buttoning the shirt when she heard a knock on the front door of the house. She crossed to the bedroom window and peered down. “Ry, why is Madam Divinity at your door?”
“F@#k.”
Still not in a good way.
“Just stay up here. I’ll handle this.” Ry stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. “F@#k!” She heard him shout on the other side of the door.
Did he imagine that she would take orders, particularly when the orders conflicted with natural curiosity? Of course not. He must expect her to follow. If she thought about it, he had practically requested that she follow him. She found her black Capri pants and tugged them on—with difficulty since they were still damp—before going after Ry. She reached the top of the stairs leading down to the entry hall just as Ry opened the front door.
“Hey, Mama.” Ry greeted a sour-faced Madam Divinity with a matching scowl. “What are you doing here?” Ry blocked the door with his body.
Mama! Mama? Madam Divinity was Ry’s mother? And he’d said he just had a passing acquaintance with her. The lying jerk. An excellent lover but a lying jerk. A gorgeous, excellent lover, but a lying jerk.
Oh, well, a guy had to have at least one fault. Being a lying jerk wasn’t so bad. His gorgeous lovemaking outweighed the lying jerkiness.
“Is this any way to treat your mama, Rylan? Keeping me standing here on your front stoop at dawn? Didn’t I teach you better manners than that? ”
“I think you should let your mama in,” Giselle said from the top of the stairs.
Ry grimaced. Then he stepped out of the doorway and Madam Divinity flew in on her broomstick. Okay, not really, but it felt like it.
Madam glowered at her as Giselle walked down the stairs. “You slept with her, didn’t you?” Madam spat the words toward Ry.
“Hey, you really are psychic,” Giselle said.
“You’re wearing my shirt and coming from the direction of my bedroom. It doesn’t take a psychic.” Ry had turned his grimace on Giselle.
“I know. Jeeze. I was being what they call sarcastic. Surely you’ve heard of it.”
