THE GHOST
MONICA CORWIN
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Author Note
About the Author
Also by Monica Corwin
Copyright © 2017 by Monica Corwin
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
1
I f Reece Phipps knew he’d become a naked ghost when he died...he might not have embraced it so whole heartedly. He looked down at his feet and and then perused the length of his naked form. Definitely dead and definitely naked. For once he was happy he spent a significant amount of time at the gym. If anyone were to see him at least he looked good for a haunting.
He spent a moment trying to recall what had happened. He’d been downing whiskey as was his tradition every Christmas day. Then he fell down and the Christmas tree had crushed him. He tried to push it off but got tangled in the cords. As the vision swam forth he stopped trying to recall the events as a strangling pain around his neck grew. He must have gotten a light cord wrapped around his neck in the struggle. If his secretary hadn’t insisted on putting a tree in his loft he wouldn’t have been in this situation. A pang of guilt hit him…she’d be upset when she found out the circumstances of his death. He didn’t pretend to be a nice person but of all the people he worked with he tolerated her best, and she him.
The darkness began to creep closer. It wasn’t so much moving as closing around him. He had no idea what to do in this situation except try to run from it. He turned and hightailed it toward a light source behind him. He had no idea if it was “the light” but he knew he didn’t want to wait around for that darkness to take him.
He ran until something washed across his skin. Like he’d jumped in a cold pool of water. Followed by the soft white noise usually heard on a mis-channeled TV screen. He closed his eyes and bent over trying to catch his breath before the noise got so loud he had to cover his ears. He tried to see something but nothing existed except his own form in a vast empty white field. And then he heard it: the soft warm voice of a woman. He couldn’t make out what she said but it sounded deep and throaty, as if she recovered from a cold or sore throat. He moved toward the dulcet tone until the white noise stopped and he found himself standing in a kitchen. The apartment was a moderately sized space by New York City standards. He looked around but only heard that soothing chatter from the bedroom. He couldn’t hear anyone else so he figured she had to be speaking on the phone. He looked down, still naked.
He wondered if she would be able to see him or if this was only an imagining. There was no way for him to tell. He could see a woman moving back and forth across the slit in the open door of her bedroom. She had long dark hair and a tiny waist. For a second he imagined what her breasts might look like but then she turned as she pulled down her shirt. He was pleasantly surprised at how well proportioned she turned out to be. That voice mesmerized him, lulled him into a sense of security. He stepped forward to try and speak to her but he tripped and went down hard. Blackness claimed him and the last image he saw was the curve of her waist.
***
Bridget hated Christmas Eve. Not because she hated Christmas but because she hated having to take two days off for the holiday. Her bosses had to kick her out by force of threat every year. She smiled as she slipped into her comfortable Christmas socks. Next year she’d make partner and they couldn’t demand she leave.
She wiggled her toes as the faux down spread across her skin. Next on the agenda was her favorite holiday spiced tea. She hung up her dry clean only clothes in the bag her assistant took every week and then shuffled off to the kitchen. Just as she reached out to tap the light switch she fell face first into her tile floor.
As her hands caught her fall she yelled “fuck” into her empty kitchen. But rolling over she realized her kitchen wasn’t so empty. Laying in a heap just at the entrance was a naked Asian man. She removed her feet from the curve of his hip and leaned in to see if he was ok. As she touched his shoulder he jerked and popped up on his feet leaving her eye level with his jingle bells.
“Woah,” she said, skittering backward.
He looked around wildly and she took a second to admire the cut of his abs. So he was a hot naked Asian man.
“Where am I?” he asked.
She climbed to her feet with a groan. “You’re in my apartment. Who the hell are you?”
He looked down at his hands and then the rest of him and she waited while he got himself together.
“Are you high?” she asked. "Do you need me to call someone for you?"
His brow furrowed and he looked at her like he only realized she was there. “Who are you?”
Anger bubbled up. “What do you mean, who am I? You are the one in my apartment. You broke in here. Don’t speak to me like I’m the one who is wrong here.”
He still looked at her with the same mix of antipathy and hostility. As if she had dared bring him warm coffee. She’d seen that same look of arrogance in most of the men at her law firm. “I don’t know…”
Once he started to walk around her apartment she grabbed his arm to stop him. “Okay buddy I’ll give you some clothes but you have to leave. It’s Christmas. I have plans.”
His mouth twisted at the corner, “Oh, what were those? Cuddle up to a bottle of wine and try to find a cat to adopt on the internet.”
Well she did plan on drinking some wine but she was allergic to cats. Regardless his tone caused a wave of shame to rise up. “No. You’re an ass. Get the hell out before I call the cops.”
She stalked over to grab her phone off the counter and turned back to him to show him very pointedly she was calling the police.
“Go ahead and call them. They won’t believe you when you tell them a ghost has invaded your apartment.”
She stopped on the second one. “Ghost?”
“I’m dead.”
She swallowed and looked him over. He didn’t look dead. Usually if a dead soul found her she could feel that they were dead. This man looked very much alive. She stepped forward and poked a finger into his chest. Solid muscle pushed back. “You’re not dead.”
“I am…”
“How did you die?”
Now he looked to be the uncomfortable one. “I had an accident involving my Christmas tree.”
She burst out laughing. Normally she was a little more respectful of the dead but this guy was a dick. “You were killed by a Christmas tree?”
Part of her felt a little wary as to the fact that he was actually dead, but the part of her that had seen ghosts since she was a child just accepted it. “Well, I guess I’ll send you over.”
“Over where?”
“You need to move on. You don’t belong here if you’re dead.”
He held up his hands. “You mean the dark place. No. I was there and I ran and now I’m here. I’m not going back.”
“I don’t know what it looks like but I know you have to go.”
“Why? I’m fine right here.”
“Besides the fact that I don’t need a haunting at the moment. I don’t need a naked man just waltzing around my apartment.”
He shrugged. “Get me some clothes.”
“It doesn’t work that way. You are stuck that way. You can do whatever you want with your body but you can’t interact with outside people or items.”
He reached out to grab a coffee cu
p. His hand passed through it.
She put her hands on her hips, frustrated. “I promise. I know what I am talking about.”
He tried again to grab the cup and succeeded in throwing it to the floor in a crash that sent shards of ceramic across her tile.
She threw up her hands. “I don’t have a damn ghost I have a poltergeist.”
She went to get her broom and clean up the mess. Maybe she could force him out. Most of the ghosts that sought her out had been friendly and willing to accept her guidance. This man was a nuisance.
As she swept the broken glass into the dustpan he watched her. She skirted around him back and forth until she finally got tired of having to move around him. She pushed right into him but as she made contact he spun her around and shoved her into the wall. The dustpan and broom went clattering to the floor as she stared at him warily. Her heart pattered against her chest and something passed between them: an awareness she couldn't name.
He stepped back after a heartbeat. “I’m so sorry. I was surprised. It was an automatic reaction.”
“I wish I’d known you when you were alive. I could have charged you double when you needed a lawyer for accosting someone.”
She pulled down her gray tunic with a jerk. As he wasn’t going to be able to do it she got back down and finished cleaning up his mess.
Tossing the broken pottery in the trash was one thing but a naked ghost standing over her shoulder every step she took was too much. “Stop following me. If you won’t cross over at least you can go sit on the floor or something. I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself.”
“Are you some sort of medium?” he asked, disregarding her instructions to go the hell away.
“No. I’m just a girl who can see ghosts.”
He chuckled. “That’s all huh?”
She spun around and pushed him forcefully away from her. “You know what. You’re a dick and I am trying to go about my life here. Go the hell away.”
He blinked and for a second she thought she’d broken through that cold exterior of his as something flashed in his eyes. But it didn’t last long and he moved away from her to sit in the corner.
“Finally. Peace.”
She grabbed her tea kettle and began to make some tea. She wanted to open her wine but his words from earlier still stung, and she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. As she grabbed the tea from the tin guilt kicked in and she took a peak at him from the corner of her eye. He sat there with his head on his arms.
“Look. I’m sorry for yelling at you but I don’t like you and you are obviously not going to leave. It’s Christmas. I was expecting to spend a quiet night alone, relaxing, but now I have a ghost failing to launch.”
He lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes were a little softer, a little less like he wished she hadn’t stepped into his presence. “Look, I’m confused too. I’m not trying to screw up your life.”
She sighed and finished her tea before sitting on the couch. The urge to look at him kept creeping into her mind. It had been longer than she cared to admit out loud since she’d seen a man naked. And he was the perfect specimen. He was only a little taller than her but he worked out when he was alive and it definitely showed in the way he moved his body. A few minutes passed and he got up to come sit by her. She watched in amusement as he tried to sit on the couch next to her but kept ending up on the floor.
“I told you that you can’t interact with inanimate objects.”
He shrugged. “I’m not going to lie. I’ll probably keep pushing it.”
That made her laugh. But she wasn’t about to accept maybe he wasn’t a total creep just yet. “What were you planning on for Christmas?” she asked. “Well, before you died.”
“I was going to drink myself to sleep in front of the TV. If my secretary hadn’t insisted on putting up that damn tree I wouldn’t be here right now.”
“Oh, it’s going to be hard on her when she finds out what happened.”
“Can you help with that?”
She met his eyes and they held nothing but sincerity. “Yes, do you have a message for her or…”
“No, just make sure she knows it wasn’t her fault. It will be a big story and people will try to take it out on her, sue her even. Well…maybe. I wasn’t well liked so maybe only the company share holders.”
She nodded carefully. There were some deals you don’t make, even with dead spirits. Promises have weight. She’d always believed that, and she didn’t want to be left with an unfulfillable deal when he did pass. Who knows what kind of trouble that would cause. She typically didn’t like to take chances.
2
Reece stared at the woman for an hour while she watched some ridiculous Christmas TV movie. He’d been rude and mean to the only other human who would be able to talk to him now. He needed to fix that, but small talk wasn’t his specialty. He’d been staring at the TV trying to become interested in the show so he could at least start a conversation. She saved him by letting out a soft squeal before running to her picture window. He stood up and followed her. Before he stepped up next to her she looked him over and then back out the window. She’d been doing that the whole time he’d been there. He didn’t know if it was for good reasons or bad ones.
“It’s going to be a white Christmas,” she whispered pressing her forehead to the glass. He reached out and touched it but couldn’t feel anything under his fingers. Then a thought struck him. He reached out and touched her face and he could feel that cold in his fingertips.
“You’re smiling. Why are you smiling. It’s creeping me out.”
She lifted her face away and eyed him warily.
“I can’t feel the glass if I touch it but I can feel the cold if I touch you after you touched it.”
“So…”
He shrugged. “I’m dead. I have very little to be excited about. Go with it.”
She laughed and then ran toward the door. He followed albeit with a little less spring in his step. “What are you doing?”
“I want to go outside. It’s snowing. I like walking in it as it falls.”
He shrugged and waited by the door and as she swirled her scarf around her neck she started laughing. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep a straight face while walking New York streets with a naked ghost.”
“Not like the people of New York haven’t seen anything strange before.”
“I’ll give you that.” She jammed her hat over her long brown hair, grabbed her keys and wallet, and then held the door open for him to exit.
“I’m intrigued to see if you can ride the elevator,” she said as she approached it and jabbed the down button.
They waited in silence and she held her hand across the door jam so he could enter. He stepped forward slowly and deliberately but seemed to have no problems and she followed him on.
She had a grin on her face as she pressed the lobby key and they descended.
He stared at the chrome doors and jerked as he noticed he didn’t have a reflection there. “Interesting,” he said. She raised an eye brow at him in question but he shook his head as the elevator groaned to a halt. They stepped off and she waved at the doorman and quickly walked out the door into the fresh snow.
He wished he could smell it. That had always been his favorite part about rain and snow: the scent of it in the air. “Tell me what is smells like?”
She eyed him under the rim of her hat. The snow had speckled her hair with white and her beauty struck him. He hadn’t noticed before but now with the soft pink glow in her cheeks she looked almost radiant.
“Please,” he added for good measure.
She bumped his shoulder with hers and for a second the chill shot through him until the contact was broken. But the echo of it remained and he hugged his arms around his chest. “It smells like thick ozone. Like the air is heavy with it and I also think it smells like Christmas.”
He laughed. “What does Christmas smell like?”
Her face took u
p a dreamy look. “Like candy canes, cinnamon, and magic.”
“I didn’t realized magic had a scent.”
“In my mind it does.”
“Oh what does that smell like?”
She bit her lip as she thought about it. “Like an oncoming storm but more gentle. Less in your face about it.”
He liked that description. And now that she wasn’t cursing at him or pushing him he realized he liked her a little bit too.
They walked along in silence until she began to stick out her tongue to catch the stray snow falling. Every time a cold drop hit her tongue she would laugh almost maniacally. It made him smile by default…even if smiling wasn’t something he normally defaulted to. He enjoyed watching her. She had an energy about her that was almost electric. And it made him wish he could be struck by it too. She continued her quest for stray snow until the temptation overtook him. He glanced up and down the street to see it empty before spinning her by the arm and kissing her soundly. As her lips met his he could taste that fallen snow and the spiced tea she’d drunk at the apartment. She pulled away and looked at him for the first time as if he were a ghost.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted to taste the snow too.”
She cleared her throat and stepped back one step. “How did you know it would work?”
“I didn’t but the experimentation didn’t seem all that unpleasant either.”
Her face grew even more pink and he began to walk again with her trailing to catch up.
“Wait,” she said after a few moments. “I thought you didn’t like me.”
He chuckled. “I never said that. You said you didn’t like me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I think the dislike was mutual there for a moment.”
“Only because you're so damn abusive.”
She laughed and walked along. He glanced back to see her footprints in the snow but not his. Being a ghost was a strange thing. He licked his lips but could feel nothing at all and yet the imprint of her lips remained like an echo against his skin. Whatever it was drawing him to her he decided had to be an affect of being a ghost and her some sort of medium. He wondered how long she’d been seeing ghosts and decided to ask.
The Ghost: an Erotic Holiday Romance Page 1
