Call On Me (19 page)

Adam had been
called to her house for a domestic disturbance! Bloody Chris Smith
had called the cops. That had never happened before in her life.
How humiliating.

It didn’t
escape her notice that regardless of apparently being concerned for
her safety, Chris hadn’t stuck around, instead he’d gone home and
rung the police. He hadn’t even had the decency to follow
through.

Deep male
voices filtered through the door but she couldn’t make out the
words. Finally they retreated and she hurried to the lounge room.
Pulling the curtain a tiny bit aside, she peeked out with one eye
to see Adam pulling out in the patrol car while Ghost walked up the
path to his house. He glanced across towards her house once and she
held her breath, however, he didn’t stop but stepped up onto his
veranda and out of sight.

She stood there
for several minutes before dropping the curtain and crossing to the
sofa to sink down.

Oh sweet baby
Jesus, she couldn’t believe what had just happened. Ghost had come
over with more on his mind than just talking. Several minutes into
it and he’d gone all weird, his eyes hot, the gleam of desire a
definite when he’d gazed down at her.

A little shiver
actually went through her at the memory of him backing her against
the wall, entrapping her within his arms. That gleam of desire had
burned with a sure fire and determination.

Knowing Ghost
as well as she did, she just knew it wasn’t going to end with
tonight. He wasn’t going to let this rest.

She wondered if
she could take annual leave early, go away for the whole four
weeks. Find another job. In another town. Or state. Maybe
country?

Mentally she
slapped herself upside the head.
Get a grip! This will blow
over!

No, this was Ty
‘Ghost’ Sinclair, and things didn’t blow over until he was ready to
let it go. The man made stubborn look like an everyday word. When
he got his teeth into something, he didn’t let go.

Another little
shiver went through her at the thought, the memory of him giving
her throat a nip at the river. The way he’d handled her so
expertly, taking control. Oh God, it had made her shudder in
helpless desire then, and it made her blood all sluggish and hot
now! Just the memory had her squirming and her insides melting
deliciously.

Rubbing her
hands over her face, Ali slumped back on the sofa.

Minx jumped up
beside her, and in her quiet, sweet way, she climbed onto her lap
and sat, looking up at Ali out of her wise old eyes.

“Oh Minx.” Ali
stroked her softly. “What a complete and utter mess.”

Minx blinked
slowly.

“Friends can’t
be lovers.” She rubbed the old ears gently. “He’s my best friend.
Was my best friend.” Tears blurred her vision. “See? Even now it’s
changed everything.”

Changed
everything just like she’d feared it would, how had it even come to
this? How could she have fallen in lust with Ghost?

The thought
made her eyes pop open. Sweet baby Jesus, she was in lust with
Ghost? Oh God, that wasn’t good, that was bad, so very, very bad.
Being in lust with a friend had disaster written all over it.

No, she had to
drive it from her mind. There was no lusting after Ghost, no
wanting his hard, muscled body against hers, his long, blonde hair
sweeping across her cheek as he leaned in from behind to nuzzle her
neck, his strong hands cupping her breasts, his brown eyes heated
with desire and his hard, thick, long- “Crap on a stick, no!”

Minx started,
her sleepy eyes widening as Ali swore.

Immediately Ali
soothed her. “Sorry, Minx. Sorry, old girl. It’s all right.”
Stroking her gently, she lulled the old cat back into her
comfortable position.

Purring, Minx
closed her eyes and leaned against Ali.

Okay, Minx
might be settled but Ali was still a mass of nerves and scrambled
emotions. She felt like she was walking in quicksand, every step
sucking her under, threatening to overwhelm her.

The main
question flashing in neon in her mind being – why had it all
changed? And even worse, now what? How the hell was she supposed to
get through this now? It wasn’t like she could just push it out of
her mind and forget about it, regardless of her brave words to
Ghost.

It didn’t mean
she wouldn’t try.

Picking up the
remote from the little coffee table beside the sofa, she flicked on
the TV in an attempt to drown her troubled thoughts in a thriller
show. It didn’t work. She’d just manage to get her thoughts on the
film when strong hands with long fingers invaded her memory. When
the action hero took down the heroine, she could feel Ghost behind
her, see him in front of her, and the close-up of the TV hero’s
face somehow became Ghost’s looking down at her with determination
and heat combined.

Crap on a
stick, this wasn’t going to work!

One thing for
it.

Carefully
transferring Minx onto the sofa, she got up and went to the phone,
picking it up and dialling Clara’s number. On the third ring Clara
answered.

“Hey,” Ali
said. “Doing much?”

“I was about to
screw the brains out of my husband, now that you mention it.”

Ali cringed.
“Okay. I’ll call you later, shall I?”

“Much later.
Tomorrow.”

“Sure.
Bye!”

Okay, friend
one down. It wasn’t like she could go over to her best friend and
cry on his shoulder, listen to his words of comfort and end up
laughing. Oh no, because her best friend was the cause of all of
this. Damn man!

Caught between
sadness, regret and anger, Ali went to the bathroom, stripping off
her clothes and going under the warm spray of the shower. Why
couldn’t Ghost see that this could only end in disaster? He
couldn’t get it through his thick head.

Man, she didn’t
want to lose him, but perversely, it was a little late for that
now. She could blame Chris, seeing as how him being an insensitive
jerk had made her go to the river alone and have Ghost come looking
for her, all concerned and
hot and yummy and
– geez!

Gritting her
teeth, she rinsed off, stepped out of the shower and dried before
wrapping the towel around herself and going into the bedroom.
Sitting at the dressing table, she reached for the moisturiser,
applying it liberally to her hands before smoothing some on her
face.

For the first
time in a long time she actually considered her image in the
mirror. It was the same old face. Green eyes, brown hair with red
highlights, pink lips and apple cheeks. Nothing new, nothing
outstanding.

Looking down,
she recapped the moisturiser bottle, going still as her gaze fell
on the photo sitting on the corner of the dressing table. Picking
it up, she studied the man and woman in the photo.

It had been
taken when Ghost and Ali had just returned from a ghost hunt. Her
eyes sparkled with laughter, her hair straggling out of the bun
she’d carelessly placed it in as she usually did when on a ghost
hunt. She was looking up at Ghost who was standing right behind
her, his head angled down towards her. His blonde hair was drawn
back into a ponytail, a long strand of it having come loose from
the wind to hang over his shoulder. Shorter strands ruffled across
his brow. His lashes partially covered his eyes as he gazed down at
her, his strong teeth flashing white in a wide smile. His square
jaw was as lightly tanned as the rest of his face. One of his hands
was resting on her shoulder, his stance protective.

It struck her
then, although she’d always known it. Ghost was handsome, almost
devastatingly so. Girls had chased him all through his school years
and he’d never been short of feminine company as an adult. One
grin, one come-hither glance, and he had any woman he wanted. Being
a successful author writing best seller horrors and thrillers made
him a catch.

But Ghost
didn’t play on it. He lived in a modest house, had an old panel van
he’d done up, had an assortment of oddball cats, and liked nothing
better than sitting and watching horror movies or going out on
ghost hunts without equipment except for a video camera, all
because he enjoyed the atmosphere and the fun.

He’d dragged
Ali on almost all of his hunts. No one else, no other woman that
she was aware of, only Ali. His best friend. They understood each
other so much, had gone through a lot together, and until a couple
of nights ago it had been all easy camaraderie.

A lump rose in
her throat. Now it was different. It wasn’t like they’d just had an
argument over something which they could get over in a couple of
days. How could you discard a heated, intimate encounter when the
man you thought of as your best friend had become your lover, his
bare loins against yours, his shaft deep inside your body?

Closing her
eyes, she took a deep breath. Something stirred inside her but
ruthlessly she shut it down. She could never look at Ghost in the
same way again, their friendship thrown off kilter. It could never
be the same and she didn’t know what to do about it.

Because this
had never happened to her. Intimacy had happened just once, years
ago, and that had been both disappointing and awkward. The
encounter with Ghost had been anything but, it had literally rocked
her world, but it just couldn’t be. It was Ghost, her best
friend.

“Shit.” Wiping
away the sudden tear that slid down her cheek, she put the photo in
the drawer. “Damn it, Ty.” But then she sat there, staring at the
vacant spot on the dressing table that was just empty without the
photo. Empty. Damn it, why did things change, why did they have to
change?

Picking up a
tissue, she wiped her damp cheeks and walked from the room. There’d
be no sleeping early this night. There was only one way she was
going to get him out of her mind for a time and that was to hit the
big guns - scaring herself witless by watching The Exorcist.
Freakin’ frightening and a sure-fire way to divert her
attention.

It succeeded
marginally. Sitting on the sofa beside Minx, she chomped her way
through a bowl of grapes and scared herself spit-less. It might
have worked for the time the movie was on but once she was in bed
and fell asleep the images that stole through her dreams were
anything but horror.

Instead of
green vomit, heads whirling on shoulders, rasping voices and
horror, her dreams were filled with strong hands, a deep voice, and
the sure, erotic sensation of a man moving against her, deep inside
her, taking her to pleasures she’d only dreamed of, mastering her
and loving her all at once.

When she awoke
in the morning her eyes were heavy, her head pounded, and her
panties were damp. If that wasn’t the definition of the kind of
damage a man could do to a woman, twisting her up in knots so that
she ached with desire and pain, she didn’t know what was. Bloody
men!

And bloody
Ghost.

She really had
to get this under control.

Lori arrived
home not long after Ali rose.

“’Morning.”
Lori nodded to her as Ali came into the kitchen.

“Hi.” Crossing
to the kettle, Ali poured a cup of tea and put two slices of toast
in the toaster. “You having breakfast?”

“I already ate
at the servo.” Sitting in one of the chairs at the kitchen table,
Lori had her socked feet up on the opposite chair, Minx in her lap,
her discarded sneakers beside the chair and a cup of Milo steaming
at her elbow.

“Be careful you
don’t knock that over onto yourself,” Ali said automatically, as
she’d said for countless years.

“Never going to
happen.”

“It’s happened
heaps of times and you know it.”

“Whatever.”
Lori watched her from sleepy eyes.

“Anything
interesting happen overnight?” Leaning against the kitchen bench,
Ali waited for the toast to pop up.

“Same old, same
old.” Yawning, her sister rubbed her eyes with one hand. Her red
polo shirt with the service station logo on it had an oil stain on
the front and her hands, while scrubbed clean, still had traces of
oil along the sides of her nails.

“Have a fight
with an oil can?” Ali queried.

“How can you
tell?” Lori replied drily.

The toast
popped out of the toaster and Ali flipped them onto the plate,
cursing as she burned her fingers. After buttering the toast, she
spread on Vegemite and took both the plate and the cup to the
table. Sitting across from Lori, she started to eat.

“So,” Lori
said. “I had a same old, same old night. What about you?”

“Oh, you know,
same old, same old.” Ali took a bite of toast.

“Because having
a cop car pull up in front of the house is so, you know, same old,
same old.”

Ali coughed and
choked, spraying crumbs liberally across the table. It took several
minutes and a mouthful of hot tea before she managed to croak out,
“Shit, who told you?”

Grimacing, Lori
wiped some crumbs off her arm. “Matt.”

“Matt?”

“Yeah.”

“He should mind
his own business.”

“He did mind
his own business, he wasn’t here when it happened” Lori replied.
“He heard it from Mrs Hubble across the street who saw it all and
told him this morning as soon as he came home from shift.”

“Great. It
wasn’t like Adam had his lights on and siren blaring, for God’s
sake.”

“No, but he did
put Ghost in a headlock.” Lori caught Ali’s rolling eyes and added,
“Apparently.”

“Sweet baby
Jesus, the gossip in this place is out of control!”

“So Adam didn’t
have Ghost in a headlock?”

“No!”

“Huh. Mrs
Hubble will be disappointed.”

“How do you
figure that? She made it up.”

“Only to excite
herself.”

Ali stared at
her sister. “Oh – ewww.”

“Not like
that.” Lori took a thoughtful sip of Milo. “Though, mind you, who
knows? I’m sure I heard a rumour that she went to the male strip
revenue when it came to town last month.”