Gatekeeper

by Debra Glass

  Amy shook her head. “You’re just too practical. Spirits are fun.”

  “Amy, this experience has been anything but fun. I’m glad it’s over. I don’t see how you can stand them…touching you.” She got the willies. “Send him to the Light. That’s what he wants.”

  Amy’s lips parted. “What? He touched you?”

  Oh no. Now she’d stepped in it. Jillian inhaled sharply.

  “Tell me, Jill.”

  Jillian shook her head vehemently. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Amy laughed. It was a sound that made Jillian smile in spite of herself. “I think you two did more than commune,” Amy said as she nodded her head.

  Jillian crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s enough. I braved my worst fear to find you. You can stop with the sisterly ribbing now.”

  “But Jillian, Benton is your Gatekeeper. He’ll protect you. You should keep this with you. I don’t think he’s ready to go into the Light—yet.”

  Gatekeeper…

  She inhaled at the memory of her dream. Gatekeeper.

  Her body heated when she recalled how it had felt to come with her legs wrapped around his tight body. She caught herself and forced the memories away. This was crazy. She wasn’t one of Amy’s desperate clients who wanted to connect with the great beyond.

  “No, Amy. I made a promise to him that if he helped me, I would help him. He told me he wanted to go to the Light and you’re the only person I know who can send him.”

  Amy gave her a weak smile.

  The door swung open and a nurse blustered in. “Oh, Miss Drew. You’re lookin’ all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. How you feelin’?”

  “Tired.”

  “Well that’s good, sweetie. You’re supposed to be tired,” the nurse said and offered her a tiny paper pill cup. “The doctor ordered something to help you rest.”

  Jillian helped Amy sit enough to down the pill, avoiding looking at Amy’s broken, jagged nails where she’d tried to dig out of the coffin. Amy chased it with some water and then Jillian lowered her gently back to the pillow.

  “Honey, you can go on home now. What we gave your sister is gonna knock her out for the night. That officer outside the door says he’s gonna stand guard.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll be fine, Jillian. Really. You look beat. Go home. Get some sleep.”

  Exhaustion had finally caught up with her and now she was bone tired. The idea of getting out of her muddy, damp clothes and sinking up to her neck in a steaming hot bath was more than appealing.

  She leaned over to give Amy a quick kiss on the forehead but Amy pulled her into a tight hug.

  A little sob tore from Jillian’s throat at the sudden display of affection. But it was more than that. “Tell Benton I’ll miss him.”

  * * * * *

  Her Manolo Blahnik pumps were ruined. “Oh well,” Jillian said as she reluctantly tossed them in the waste can. Expensive shoes could easily be replaced.

  The soggy Chanel sweater lay in a blue pile at her bare feet. Maybe the dry cleaners could salvage it but she doubted it. She slipped off her taupe trousers and held them up. Wrecked. Totally. Besides being waterlogged with rain, a nasty grass stain marred one knee. Another dark stain saturated the back of the right leg. But it wasn’t mud. Jillian peered closer.

  It was blood. Her blood.

  She dropped the pants to the floor and propped her foot on the side of the tub. Three vicious, deep claw marks etched an ugly red path down her calf. She hadn’t noticed the wound in the mêlée but now it stung painfully.

  Sirius hopped up on the edge of the tub and batted at the running water but Jillian knew what he really wanted was a good rubbing behind the ears. He purred at her touch but his contentment was short lived. His green-eyed stare darted to something Jillian could not see. Hissing and fur flying, he darted off the tub and out of the bathroom.

  “Goofy cat, it’s just the storm.” Thunder and lightning raged outside but Jillian wasn’t about to let anything come between her and a hot bath.

  She shucked off her bra and let it fall to the floor, intent on stepping into the tub, but her gaze caught something in the mirror—a fleeting glimpse of a shadow behind her. With a gasp, she whirled around.

  No one.

  Her heart thudded against her rib cage. She’d been so certain. Still the hairs on her arm rose with a static charge. Had one of those graveyard ghouls followed her home? She shuddered at the thought. Maybe she’d given up that button too soon. “Is anyone there?” she asked, very aware she was wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy purple panties and no bra.

  Instinctively, she covered her breasts with her hands. “What do you want?”

  But no answer came to her, psychically or otherwise.

  This was crazy. She was spooked. That was all. And with good reason. In one day, she had spoken to and been touched by a ghost, attacked by evil shadow beings, pursued by revenant souls in a graveyard and found her sister buried alive by some mad man who was still out there. It was perfectly reasonable for her to be skittish.

  But even given that, right now, she was too exhausted to give it any more thought.

  She balled her dark hair up with a Scrunchie, peeled off her panties and stepped into the steaming bathwater. The heat felt good. Really good. Sliding down until the water touched the hair at the nape of her neck, she closed her eyes and tried to relax but her mind wouldn’t be quiet. Events of the day played through her thoughts over and over. Who had kidnapped Amy? And for what purpose? And what did Benton Smith and that button have to do with it?

  Benton Smith.

  His face drifted to the forefront of her thoughts. Strong. Handsome. Dashing. That was the word. Dashing. A wistful smile pulled at her lips.

  It was too bad she hadn’t known him when he was alive. Jillian’s body tightened with remembrance. In the dream, he’d been so…perfect.

  Her pussy clenched and her hand crept down to where she found herself wet and ready.

  Thunder suddenly boomed and lightning struck so close to her house it shook the foundation and knocked out the power, leaving her ensconced in total darkness. Jillian gasped. A split second passed before she realized what had happened. Her heart rate slowly returned to normal as she fumbled for her towel, cursing because she had a dozen candles surrounding the tub and not one match.

  She pulled the plug with her toe and climbed out of the tub. Wrapping up in a thirsty white towel, she picked her way through the clothes on the floor to the bedroom. The house was eerily quiet except for the fury of the rain, wind and thunder rattling the windowpanes. There was no hum of electric sounds to comfort her and since Sirius had bolted, not even her cat to keep her company. “Kitty, kitty,” she called, to no avail.

  She was about to check under the bed when lightning struck again, illuminating the room in a quick flash of dazzling White Light. But as the room descended once more into murky shadows, Jillian saw it once more—a dark figure looming near the doorway.

  She froze.

  Chapter Six

  The sight of the unexpected visitor nearly caused her to lose her towel but she managed to hang on to it so it concealed all the right places.

  “Who are you?” This time it was not a request. Blood raced through her veins.

  Damn this darkness.

  The sound of footsteps thudded on the wood floor. Whoever it was, he was coming closer. Jillian shrank back against the footboard of the bed. Her heart pounded against her rib cage. Her pulse throbbed in her ears.

  Lightning flashed again, illuminating the figure only inches away. This time, in the flare of light, she saw his face.

  Benton.

  Her heart soared. She blew out the breath she had been holding. “You scared the life out of me!”

  Somewhere inside lurked a feeling she couldn’t identify. At first she thought it was relief but it was more than that. It was as if she knew that as long as Benton was near she was safe, protected—and something else, s
omething she had never known before, something for which she had no name. The feeling evoked a new sense of panic that had nothing to do with the fact he was a ghost. She flushed.

  His gaze drifted from her to the cat, who crouched under the corner of the bed, staring wild-eyed. Although Sirius made a mad dash for the door, Jillian never took her eyes off Benton. What had brought him back here? “I don’t understand,” she said. “I gave the button to Amy.”

  The hint of a smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “And she put it back in your pocket.” Lazily, his gaze slid into hers once more, only leaving her eyes to drop to her lips and then lower to where the towel strained to conceal the fullness of her breasts.

  There was no mistaking the heat in his smoldering gaze. Instinctively, she drew the towel higher. Liquid warmth coiled downward inside her.

  She wet her lips. This was awkward. Fucking him in a dream was one thing but considering having sex with a…a ghost, was unthinkable. She had to put some distance between them. Trembling and acutely aware she was wearing nothing but a towel, she moved around the side of the bed and sat gingerly on the edge. “Would you like to sit down?” Why was her mouth suddenly so dry?

  He looked at the spot beside her and lifted a dark brow. The bed sank as he sat and she felt the pressure of a steel thigh against hers. An instant wave of heat climbed up her spine. This was a mistake. Now she was wedged between the ghost and the headboard. There was nowhere else to go and he was close—so close.

  She caught the familiar masculine scent of wood fires and leather. His smoldering gaze never wavered from hers as he ever-so slightly leaned toward her. “Do you think this proper, madam?” Something in his mocking tone and wicked, dimpled smile told her he didn’t care if it was proper. And then the dimples deepened with a smile that stole her breath. Jillian’s heart ricocheted in her chest.

  Her gaze dropped to his beautiful mouth and then shot back to his eyes. A hot blush blazed up the front of her throat and infused her cheeks. What was she thinking? What was she doing? She was a licensed, practicing psychologist. How could she be sitting here entertaining the idea of making out with a ghost? She nearly gasped out loud. She was considering it. She had been considering it.

  She wriggled away from him, painfully aware of the absence of his hard thigh against hers.

  Jillian was thoroughly disconcerted but in the darkness, he appeared almost solid—almost real. He certainly felt real. She wet her lips. “Why didn’t you let Amy send you into the Light?”

  “She didn’t exactly give me a choice.” He looked down to where his long fingers sprawled across his thighs and Jillian noticed the ugly scratches on his hands where those creatures had clawed him.

  Realization flooded her. Amy had sent the button back with her because this wasn’t over yet.

  But what was he doing here? Now? She had the distinct feeling she was in danger—danger of a different kind.

  “Is…is Amy in trouble?” She was afraid to ask.

  He shook his head. “Not now.”

  “Then why…I mean…you’re here.”

  He was silent.

  Jillian’s pulse was racing. Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the towel tighter. “I… Thank you for helping me. I could never have found her without you.”

  “It was an honor to be of service,” he said. His sexy drawl and old-world wording mesmerized her. “The pleasure was all mine.”

  The way he lingered on the word pleasure sent a wave of heat rushing up Jillian’s back that settled uncomfortably in her neck.

  She drew a knee up under her, inadvertently letting the towel slip a little. Benton’s gaze warmed, sliding down, making Jillian intensely aware of the soft cotton against the sensitive skin of her distended nipples. She jerked the towel back into place, conscious of her pounding heart beneath her fingers. “I thought men from your time were supposed to be…gentlemen.” Her tone was surprisingly not as critical as she had intended. It was teasing, flirtatious. Although she’d been with men before, she’d never made the first move. She had certainly never been accused of engaging in anything licentious. For once, she was shocked at herself.

  He laughed outright. It was a warm and rich laugh—and very, very seductive. “Madam, I have been a soldier since I was sixteen years old. I am aware of the proper decorum a gentleman should demonstrate in the presence of…a lady.” His judicious gaze raked her again.

  “I thought you said you’d given up on ladies.” Her eyes narrowed coquettishly. “And I will remind you, General Smith, that you were the one who intruded on my bath.” A little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Despite the chill in the air, she felt warm all over—and unreservedly exposed.

  His smile broadened. One of his dimples was slightly deeper than the other. “I might remind you that you were well aware of my…presence…before you disrobed.”

  She had suspected something was there. But not something so utterly…male.

  His dove gray gaze moved to her forehead, where he raised his hand and brushed his thumb across the scratches, his palm lingering to gently cup her face. Jillian’s heart skipped a beat. But it was not because she knew he was a ghost. It was because his touch was so tender, so compassionate—and so completely real.

  And so easy.

  “What you did today was incredibly gallant.”

  Jillian smiled at his choice of words. Gallant. He was a nineteenth-century man after all. “Anyone would have done the same given the circumstances.”

  He shook his head. “No, my dear. You are wrong. I’ve seen grown men turn tail and run when faced with battle. I’ve seen cowards turn into conquerors. But someone with your determination is rare.” His eyes shone with austere sincerity.

  Jillian swallowed. “I did what I had to do. That’s all.” But she knew he was right. She had overcome deepseated terror to find Amy. And she couldn’t have done it without Benton’s help.

  All at once she realized how much she had always wanted a safe haven, how much she had always longed for someone, needed someone strong and unselfish—someone like Benton. Her lashes fluttered shut. She turned her cheek more fully into his calloused palm and relished his caress, suddenly feeling vibrant and alive. She wanted to remain here like this with him forever.

  But then a dark thought intruded. Soon he would be leaving her forever. Amy would send him into the Light after this was over and Jillian would once more be left alone. Her mind warred with her heart. She couldn’t let this continue. She’d already let him cross any and all of her boundaries. Her mind grappled for anything, some word, something to divert this. She opened her eyes and drew away from his touch. “How did you…die?”

  The dimples disappeared. His eyes turned to steel. His hand and his gaze dropped to his knee where he brushed away some imagined lint. “I was killed with my own sword by the Federal colonel to whom I surrendered.”

  He seemed resigned enough to that fact. So why had he not gone on to the Other Side?

  Jillian proceeded with caution, trying very hard to concentrate on anything but the warm throbbing high between her legs. “I…talked to a historian today. He told me what happened. He…he told me about Hattie.”

  Benton’s gaze found hers once more. His eyes narrowed. Instantly, she regretted her words. It was obviously a sore subject. She shouldn’t have brought it up but perhaps her statement had served its purpose.

  Their gazes locked for another heartbeat and then he looked away. “So that’s how I’ve been remembered.”

  “No, no.” She tried to touch his sleeve but her hand moved through him. How could he be corporeal at times and so transparent at others? “No, I mean he told me that you were killed saving the life of the man who married Hattie.”

  “I was his superior officer.” His stare returned to hers. It was severe.

  “Of course, but…well I thought it was… I thought it was a noble thing to do.”

  “Honor had nothing to do with it.” His words were sharp, clipped.

  T
his tactic had been a mistake. She had to change the subject. Her mind searched frantically for something to say. “But when it happened, you…you couldn’t see any Light?”

  Some dark, haunting memory flickered in his eyes. “I saw it…the Light. Just before your sister was attacked. I could have gone…”

  “But you didn’t.”

  His gaze penetrated hers and she saw the seriousness in the deep gray pools despite the watercolor darkness of the room. “No. When I heard someone coming, I warned her and she threw the button.”

  Jillian’s heart turned over. Hard. He could have gone into the light but he’d stayed to help Amy. She averted her eyes. “I’m sorry Amy put that button back in my pocket.” Her voice was soft, sincere.

  “I’m not,” he drawled, thick and sweet.

  Once more, her gaze slid to his. A dark lock of hair threatened to fall across his forehead. The thin moustache and little spade beard were incongruently sinister in comparison with the soft gray of his eyes. She wanted to touch him, to feel him. And above all, she wanted to know what it would be like to kiss a ghost—to kiss him.

  Her gaze lingered on his beautiful parted lips. So sensuous. So seductive. Just one kiss. Did she dare ask?

  She didn’t have to.

  Lithe and soundless, as if he’d read her thoughts, his head slanted toward hers. There was no mistaking the fire in his eyes. Deftly, he pulled the Scrunchie from her hair, letting the loose black waves fall in a tumult around her face. “So beautiful, so natural.” His voice was whisper soft as he admired his handiwork for a moment, entwining a lock around his index finger before returning his searing gaze to hers.

  Jillian’s heart went wild. He moved dangerously close. She burned with anticipation. He was going to kiss her and waiting for it was the most intense mixture of heaven and hell she had ever known in her life. Her eyelids drifted shut. Her pussy tightened with expectation.

  His mouth brushed hers once, twice, softly, maddeningly. Her clit swelled. “I want to kiss you, Jillian.” His voice was low and raw. “Let me taste your lips.”