Ghost of a Chance (Banshee Creek Book 2)

by Gonzalez, Ani

  "I just picked up my pantsless brother in the middle of a thunderstorm. I'm not ready to contemplate Zach being correct about anything."

  Touché.

  She took another sip of too-minty sangría. She already felt more like her normal, cheerful self. Her mom and Mrs. Franco would be done with their dinner in about an hour. She could stay in the basement for that long. Or was that the alcohol talking? This stuff was deceptively strong. Maybe she should give Gabe some. He was looking antsy. "C'mon. We can hide until the moms finish their pizza."

  "That could take all night."

  "On a football night? No way. My mom is allergic to sports. They'll leave in less than an hour."

  "Elizabeth?"

  "Yes?"

  "I'm too old for this."

  "Too old for what?

  "This hiding-from-parents bullshit." He turned toward the door. "I'm going to bang on this until Zach comes."

  He reached for the knob, but Elizabeth grabbed his arm.

  "Let me go. This is ridiculous."

  "It's just an hour," she said as she leaned forward and touched his lips with her finger. "My mom will have a nice night out, which she hasn't had in a long time, without unpleasant distractions. And we can avoid the gossip. It's a win-win."

  He was quiet. She could feel his chest through the thin hoodie. Was he breathing fast? She certainly hoped so. This plan wouldn't work unless she managed to distract him. Hopefully, it wasn't the dark basement that was making his pulse race.

  She stood up on tiptoes, sorely missing her sexy heels, and the gesture dragged her body across his. She could feel him tense in reaction.

  It was the good kind of tense.

  "It'll be less than an hour," she whispered. Okay, maybe a bit more, given her mom's love for Pepe's sangría, but he didn't have to know that. "We can find something to do in the meantime."

  She kissed him with exquisite gentleness. A mere butterfly kiss. Practically not a kiss at all.

  He seemed impervious to the caress, but his heart hammered under her hand, and she could feel his erection against her thigh, an encouraging sign. Then something seemed to break inside him and he pulled her up roughly, making her gasp. He tilted her head back and returned her kiss with fierce intensity. His mouth plundering hers without mercy.

  Very encouraging indeed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  HE BROKE the kiss, but it took every single ounce of willpower he possessed.

  He gently pushed Elizabeth until she stood at arms' length, or as close as he could get to arms' length in the narrow stairway. Half arm's length? Quarter arms' length? Whatever, as long as her luscious body wasn't draped around him.

  He took a deep breath. Then another.

  She looked flushed and dazed. It was a dangerous look. He shouldn't have called her crazy. She'd taken it as a dare.

  He pulled his phone out and started to dial Zach. Elizabeth leaned forward to grab the phone, but he held her off. It took a lot of effort, but he held firm.

  "Not any closer," he said forcefully.

  She just smiled, looking rather like a cat visualizing a particularly tempting catnip plant. At times like these, discretion was the better part of valor, so he stepped back as he waited for Zach to pick up the phone.

  "Are you done yet?" asked a familiar voice that was, nonetheless, not that of his brother.

  "Wrong number," Gabe growled into the phone.

  Elizabeth's brows lifted and her lips curved in mirth. Her hand moved up to his wrist.

  "Try again, Franco. I have an advanced piece of technology that says it's you on the line," Salvador said. "I take it you're not done yet."

  Gabe tried to concentrate on Salvador's words, but Elizabeth was caressing his arm. How did she know he had a sensitive spot right on the inside of his wrist?

  "No, I'm not done." He shifted, tried to avoid her touch. She seized the opportunity and stepped into his arms. Her hands fell to his waist and she leaned her chin on his chest with a mischievous smile.

  "Do I really need to remind you how important this is?" Salvador's voice hissed through the phone. "I just got three phone calls from investors who found out that our ghost tours are cancelled. They need TLC and pronto. Did I jump into an alternate dimension? I never have to follow up on you, Gabe. You're the one who has to follow up on me. What is going on?"

  He opened his mouth to answer, but Elizabeth's hands had sneaked under his shirt and started exploring his back. She must have liked what she found because her eyes closed and her lips touched his chest.

  "I'll call you back, Salvador."

  Elizabeth's tongue touched his skin and he sucked in a breath.

  "Are you okay? You sound weird. Wait, I didn't catch you with a girl, did I? No, of course not. You're never with a girl."

  Now that was uncalled for. He dated. Sometimes. Not as often as Salvador for sure, but never was a huge exaggeration.

  "You're sick, aren't you?" Salvador continued. "Then get better, fast. I'm really not comfortable with this role-reversal thing. I like being the irresponsible party in this relationship. I'm really good at it."

  "Salvador," Gabe started, but his voice cut short as Elizabeth's tongue slid slowly along his collarbone. His muscles tightening, he dug his fingers into her silky hair and held her still against his chest. She sucked at his skin in response.

  "I'm sending the plane to Virginia." His business partner's voice was firm. "You'll be in Manhattan in a couple of hours. We'll put you in Mt. Sinai and you can get back to work. You liked the doctors there. Remember that weird stomach thing you brought from Hong Kong? You worked straight through it at the hospital."

  "I'm not sick," Gabe responded. "And I don't need a hospital."

  Elizabeth's physical examination was making his pulse race dangerously, but there was no treatment for that.

  "I don't know what's wrong with you, but if you don't figure out a way to get the stupid ghost tours back on track, you will need to go to Mt. Sinai. With several fractures, courtesy of our investors."

  Gabe grimaced as the dial tone rang out. He cursed viciously in Spanish and felt Elizabeth smile against his skin.

  The minx.

  He dialed Zach again, desperate to get out of the stupid basement and take Elizabeth home, but his call went unanswered. Typical.

  Elizabeth's teeth nipped at the sensitive skin of his neck, making him shudder. His fingers tightened on her hair and he pulled her face away from his skin. He wasn't exactly gentle and quickly realized that mistake. Elizabeth let out a sigh of pleasure. A tiny sigh, barely audible, a small, pathetic little thing, but it broke him.

  He looked at her. Lovely, tender, and aroused. Beautiful.

  "You're supposed to kiss me now," she whispered, eyes wide and stormy.

  "I am?" He felt his self-control draining away, drop by drop.

  "Yes." She raised her chin in silent invitation.

  "Why?"

  She gave him a tempting smile. "Because I've been fantasizing about you ravishing me in this basement for years. Of course, my fantasies didn't take into account your basement phobia."

  "I'm not phobic. I just don't like it," he said, trying not to think about Elizabeth's fantasies. Years? No, he definitely didn't want to visualize that.

  "Right." The smile was now a saucy grin. "Well, we're braving the unknown here, so let's make it count."

  A brief vision of a black-tressed, kohl-eyed girl with sad eyes was quickly brushed aside when her hand circled his neck, pulling his head down. Elizabeth Hunt wanted to be seduced in a basement.

  And who was he to say no?

  But it was unclear who was ravishing whom. Elizabeth sucked gently at his bottom lip, then kissed his chin as she trailed her fingers over his lower back. The soft, feathery touch made his muscles clench.

  He twisted her silky blonde hair around his hand and pulled. Elizabeth fought him, but not for long. She raised her lips up for a kiss. He leaned down, avoiding her hungry mouth, and touched his lips to
the sweet slope of her neck. He licked her skin and felt her shiver. Her hands pulled on his back, trying to draw him closer. He pulled on the zipper of her hoodie, exposing her flesh to the cold air. She moved restlessly, but he gentled her by kissing her neck.

  Or at least he tried to. Elizabeth would not be gentled. She moaned, an incoherent sound that was still, clearly, a demand.

  "Say please." He felt her tense and had to fight the urge to smile.

  "Fuck please, Gabe," she growled as her nails dug into his skin. "I want you now." Her desperate plea—well, order would be more accurate—was music to his ear. The footsteps he heard on the other side of the door, however, were not.

  "That's not the right word." He slipped his hand under the cloth. Her nipple was tight and, judging from her strangled moan, exquisitely sensitive.

  He saw the doorknob twist, but the lock held and the footsteps faded away as Elizabeth's hips pushed into his tight erection and he sucked in his breath. His other hand pulled at the strings that held her pants up. Elizabeth was wearing no underwear and her whispers grew more and more agitated as his fingers neared the slick flesh between her legs.

  "Gabe," she breathed shakily.

  "You know the right word," he whispered. The footsteps had come back and now they had company. What rotten timing.

  He lifted his head to muffle Elizabeth's moan with a kiss.

  "C'mon, baby," he spoke against her mouth. "You know the right word." Her hips were moving restlessly. Finally, she broke.

  "Please, please, please," she gasped into his lips.

  He kissed her roughly and dipped his fingers into her wet flesh. She jerked as he caressed her, the steady pressure making her muscles clench. She moaned into his mouth, begging for more.

  Then he felt the door shake and heard the key turn in the lock.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ELIZABETH BARELY had time to blink before Gabe zipped her Middleburg Inn hoodie and pushed her up the stairs. Gabe pulled her through the pizzeria, avoiding a surprised Zach and almost tripping over a redheaded waitress wearing a "Survival Tip Number 8: Don't Have Sex" T-shirt. Unfortunately, she couldn't avoid her mom's wide-eyed gaze as they crossed the dining room. Gabe exchanged a few words with the moms, then led Elizabeth out the door and into the Ferrari.

  She collapsed into the passenger seat but didn't find her voice until Gabe turned on the car.

  "They saw us." The words came out as a pathetic squeak and she cursed silently. She hadn't meant to sound like a bathroom toy.

  "Of course they saw us. So what?" Gabe drove smoothly onto the street. Elizabeth couldn't believe how calm he was. Did he know what they'd done?

  "We've dumped dynamite into a bonfire, Gabe," she squeaked again. She cleared her throat. She was rattled, true, but this wasn't a conversation she wanted to squeak through. "You don't have a problem with that?" There, that sounded better.

  "No."

  "So we need plan..." She paused. "I'm sorry, confronting my mom in post-orgasmic dishabille must have scrambled my brains. I could've sworn you just said you don't have a problem with our parents knowing about us."

  "You heard right. I'm perfectly comfortable with our families finding out you are mine."

  "Since when?"

  "Since you came all over my hand, several times in fact." Gabe was smiling. "My pants are wet with your come. It's a bit stupid to pretend we're not together."

  "Self-preservation is not stupid," she said under her breath.

  Why did his words sound so hot? She'd had two orgasms today, but her body was apparently still not satisfied. Well, tone it down; we're in crisis mode here.

  But she still tingled. Her traitorous body didn't think they were in a crisis at all.

  "What exactly are you trying to preserve?" he asked in a calm, reasonable tone that made her want to scream.

  "My life. Your life. Our lives." They were already at her house. Gabe drove like a homicidal maniac on bath salts. She added that to her List of Reasons Why a Relationship with Gabe Franco Wouldn't Work. "My town, which you're trying to destroy."

  He turned the car off, put his hands on his lap, and looked at her. "Our lives? Plural?" His dark eyes bored into hers, and she quickly looked away.

  "Yes, our lives," she said. What was wrong with him? He had a life, a carefully structured life. He didn't want that threatened, did he?

  "I think you have some thinking to do." His voice was firm. "You have until tomorrow."

  "What happens tomorrow?"

  And think? Think about what? She was already not liking this. It was the kind of thing her father did all the time. "You have some thinking to do" translated to "you'd better think your way into doing what I want you to do." And she wasn't very good at doing things other people wanted her to do.

  "Weren't you paying attention?" He gave her a crooked smile. "You're going to lunch with my family tomorrow."

  She stifled a groan. Was that what he'd been talking about with his mom? She'd agreed to go to the famous Franco Sunday Lunch?

  "Don't look so panicked. You won't be alone. I think my mom's inviting the whole town."

  A wave of panic engulfed her. She took a deep breath. This was way too fast. To hell with the "intimacy issues." She had to stop this. She needed a plan.

  She tried to come up with a good one while Gabe exited the car, opened her door, and walked her to her front door. She discarded three schemes as he dug around her purse for the keys, unlocked the door, and opened it. But her mind went blank when he kissed her on the threshold. It was a good kiss. It made her forget the moms and the Franco lunch. It made her forget everything except his arms wrapped around her. His hands held on to her hips and she was keenly aware, again, of her lack of underwear. She was breathing hard when he finally broke the kiss.

  "Do you want to come inside?" she whispered.

  He smiled and kissed her forehead. "You have some thinking to do, Elizabeth," he said.

  "I don't want to do any thinking." She leaned forward and placed her lips on the sensitive spot where his shoulder met his neck. He tensed instantly and she felt his hand grip the back of her neck as he tried to pull her head away. She gave his skin a little nip.

  "Be careful, Elizabeth."

  The sexy growl of his voice merely stoked her desire. "Careful is not in my vocabulary."

  She licked the bruised skin and his fingers tightened on her neck in response. The rough caress was almost what she needed. Almost, but not quite.

  "Pull my hair." She shivered as his fingers gentled. She didn't want gentle. "Please."

  Gabe dragged her into his chest with a groan. His hand went to her hair and he leaned her head back firmly. Elizabeth felt her body clench in response.

  Oh no, she didn't want gentle at all.

  The kiss was rough and hard and it left her panting. Her hands clenched his ass and she ground against the very promising bulge in his pants. She was humming with pleasure.

  She wouldn't be doing any thinking tonight. She'd be heading straight to her bedroom.

  Her bed had an iron headboard that presented intriguing possibilities. He wasn't wearing a tie, but she had a pile of expensive French scarves her mom had insisted on giving her as presents. Maybe she could convince him to give them a try. She sucked gently on his tongue as she pictured his hands tying her to the iron rods. Her legs trembled. She was going to come like this. She was going to come fully clothed.

  Just a little bit more.

  She just needed a little bit more.

  Gabe broke the kiss and pushed her away. He was breathing heavily. He wasn't the only one. Elizabeth could feel her heart beating at runaway speed in her chest. His eyes were black with arousal, but his voice was firm.

  "Think, Elizabeth." He let go of her arms and stepped back. "For once, just think."

  Then he walked away, closing the door firmly behind him.

  She stared at the door, aroused and confused.

  And also angry.

  Think about what?


  She didn't want to think about her mom's reaction to seeing her with Gabe at the pizzeria. She was fairly certain she hadn't looked like a composed, professional real estate agent showing properties to a wealthy client. No, she'd looked like a woman who'd just had an orgasm in a basement. Her mom would either be angry to see her looking so disheveled or overjoyed to see her with Gabe. She didn't know which one was worse.

  She also didn't want to think about the lunch tomorrow. Everyone would assume they were a couple, and their families would be drafting guest lists and reserving wedding venues in their heads. Hell, the whole town would get in the game. They needed a new distraction now that the ghost tours were kaput.

  Not thinking about that was already giving her a headache, and she walked to her room in a foul mood.

  How could he be so sanguine about their situation? It was almost like he didn't mind that their families would think of them as a couple.

  She minded, though, a lot. She didn't mind her mother's matchmaking. It was a good thing in a way. At least her mom was now interested in something. But successful matchmaking was a different thing altogether. Her mom was a little too interested in the potential relationship. If they became a couple, her mom would start dreaming of white gowns, flower girls, and grandchildren? Would she be disappointed if that didn't happen? Disappointed enough to give in to the pull of the Dreaded Sofa of Darkness?

  After all, she didn't intend to walk down the aisle at St. Michael's and pledge to love, honor, and obey Gabe Franco. Especially the obey part. She didn't want to find herself playing dutiful wife to an autocratic husband. And Gabe was very much the "my way or the highway" kind of guy. Exhibit 1: Tonight's basement adventure. Exhibit 2: The Grotto House. Exhibit 3: The PRoVE takeover. The thought made her shudder. She didn't want her mother's life.

  She shook her head. She was thinking about it, just like he wanted her to.

  She stripped out of her damp clothes and threw them on the floor as she walked to her nightstand. She jerked open the drawer and took out a translucent case that held a brightly colored plastic cylinder with a bulbous head. She hadn't had a chance to try out the Turbo-gasm 2000 she'd bought in L.A. It came from Amsterdam and was supposed to be life-altering. It was even waterproof.