Haunted on Bourbon Street (11 page)

Besides, she seemed too pure to be a witch. I didn’t have a clue what she was. “All right.”

Her white light brightened with my agreement. “Wonderful! I can’t wait.” She waved goodbye as she headed toward the door.

I sat down, exhausted and contemplated heading home to take a nap. The idea sent my heart racing. Ian hadn’t shown up with the protection wards yet, and I really didn’t want to face the possibility of more ghost sightings. I hadn’t seen or felt anything the night before, but I’d slept like the dead (if the dead dreamed of hot guys, that is). A whole room of ghosts could have been loitering and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Sliding my protective glasses on, I picked up a flint striker and lit my torch. The familiar orange flame calmed my pulse as I picked up a rod of glass and introduced it to the heat. My attention focused as the glass formed a soft, molten ball. Soon all other thoughts left my head as I pulled thin strands of glass to use later as decoration. With my work station full of prep, I grabbed a steel mandrel and started creating a complicated focal bead.

Hours later, after packing my kiln full of beads, I organized my work station and cleaned up glass scraps until the work surface shined. A true testament to how much I didn’t want to go home. Organization was not my middle name. With a sigh, I turned out the lights and headed home.

Walking past the line formed in front of Wicked, I waved to one of the dancers standing out front and entered the side door. With nervous energy making me nauseous, I forced myself up the three flights of stairs.
Please let the ghost be taking the night off.

As I slid my key into the lock, a note taped to the door caught my attention.

Jade, if you need to, for any reason, come on down to Pyper’s apartment. I’ll be there. Kane.

A silly grin broke out on my face. For any reason? I’d keep that in mind. Feeling a weight lifted, I entered my apartment and flipped the lights on. I peered around the room. Everything
looked
calm. Still hesitant, I stepped inside, let my guard down and tapped into the emotional energy. Nothing unusual. To be sure, I circled my apartment three times. Faint waves of familiar comfort washed over me, and I knew nothing lingered except traces of my own essence. I sighed in relief and got ready for bed.

Not long after I pulled the covers back and snuggled in, the dreaming started.

My eyes flickered at a movement and I sat up, startled. Across the room a man leaned against the window frame, unbuttoning his shirt as his pale blue eyes searched mine.

Automatically I covered my bare chest, feeling exposed and aroused at the same time. His familiar energy engulfed me, and my breath caught. Finally, I could put a face to my dream lover.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his tousled, sandy brown hair and moved toward me. He reached out, soothing the side of my face.

Tingling with the caress, I clasped my hand over his and leaned back.

“
Join me,” I urged.

Watching as he stepped out of his jeans, I inhaled sharply at the sight of his well-defined thighs. His thumbs reached the elastic of his boxers, slowly sliding them over the concave of his hips. My eyes fixated on his silhouette as he stood there completely exposed, adoration streaming off him.

His obvious love filled me with a heartbreaking tenderness as his eyes roamed slowly down my body and back up again. The action reminded me of someone carefully memorizing every detail. With a slow, seductive smile, he lowered himself and caressed my hair, fanning it out behind me on the pillow. I reveled in the silky smooth sensation, losing myself. When his hand finally stopped he leaned in close, his warm mouth hovering over my own. Too impatient to wait longer, my hand shot out, pulling his head down the last few inches and tasted the sweet warmth beneath his lips.

A small sigh turned into a gasp as he jerked back, his surprise and anger filling my senses. Intense jealousy blocked his emotions, startling me. My senses followed the stream, and I found Kane, his fists raised, standing just behind my lover. Realization dawned. Kane had pulled the man off me.

With my heart pounding, my eyes flew open. Moonlight spilled through the darkness of my empty apartment.

***

The next day, Ian arrived with dried herbs. He mounted them near my front door and balcony window then took off to do the same for the club. He’d said his aunt had put them together and invoked them to ward off evil. I hoped Auntie knew what she was doing. Not just anyone could invoke a charm.

After two ghost-free days I decided the ghost repellent was working and took an afternoon off from the glass studio to work on my Etsy website. It had been too long since I’d updated it. I set my laptop up on the balcony and settled in for some serious photo editing. After a few dozen or so pictures my mind started to wander.

A small smile played at my lips as I recalled the X-rated dreams I’d continued to have. They started out exactly the same, with the sandy-haired, blue eyed man I now referred to as Mr. Sexy appearing at my bedside. His light-as-a-feather touch sent my senses into overload, simultaneously relaxing me and sending electric shock waves through my veins. But each time as Mr. Sexy leaned in, intent on replacing his fingers with his lips, Kane appeared.

In that instant, Mr. Sexy evaporated and Kane replaced him. His roving hands and eager lips set off my already primed body with a passion so fierce and memorable, all of my past real-life experiences paled in comparison. Though, to be honest, I didn’t have a lot to compare it to. Dan happened to be one of only two people who had actual carnal knowledge of my body.

Heat rose to my face as I recalled the intimate details of my dream. Who knew my subconscious could be so imaginative? And with two men. Too distracted to work, I hauled my laptop inside and went to the kitchen, searching for a bottle of wine. I knew I’d brought a few bottles with me from Kat’s house. I’d emptied one, but where had I put the other? Ah, yes, in the suitcase I hadn’t yet emptied. Leaving it close to the closet was good enough, right?

Inside, I found an unopened cream envelope. I picked it up, reached for the wine bottle sitting in the middle of the bag and headed back to my kitchen.

After uncorking the bottle, I poured a glass and sat on my couch, fingering the neat scrawl of my name in Kat’s handwriting. I took a sip of the rich cabernet and pulled the card out. Two women huddled close on the front, with a single word at the top.
Girlfriends
.

A gift-card-sized envelope fell out as I opened it. Kat’s handwritten note read:

Jade, I know things have been difficult with the “situation,” but I want you to know you’re my best friend, and no man will ever change that. I love you, Kat.

P.S. Put the label on your bathroom door. Every girl needs privacy.

Searching the envelope, I found the black and white label.
No Ghosts Allowed.

I laughed, remembering our ghost speculation the night before I’d moved out. Kane had said it was haunted, but none of us had taken him seriously.

The thought wiped the grin from my face. I ripped the gift card open and found a generous gift certificate to a local home furnishing store. Tears sprang to my eyes. I’d let my feelings about Dan get in the way of our friendship. I hadn’t heard from or spoken to her since we’d argued that day in the cafe. While I wasn’t mad anymore, I was disappointed. In her quest to remain Switzerland between me and Dan, she’d all but shut me out.

I reread her card, letting the words sink in and then grabbed the phone. Her voicemail picked up on the third ring.

“Kat, I just found your card and am calling to say thank you. I’m sorry about our fight. It’s not fair to put you in the middle of me and Dan’s B.S. Call me so we can make plans to spend this ASAP. I love you, too.” Setting the phone down, I wiped the fresh tears from my eyes and headed back for my wine. On the way I picked up the No Ghosts Allowed label. Snickering, I placed it in the middle of my bathroom door.

“Do you see that, ghost? You are not allowed in the bathroom. Some things are private.” I retreated back to the couch, and an image near the window made me spin. I gasped. A vague, shadowy, outline grew stronger until a man, a man I recognized stood near my window. Mr. Sexy.

Oh. My. God. My dreams were haunted by a ghost. I stood paralyzed, transfixed, waiting. Our eyes met and Mr. Sexy’s lips quirked up. Then he dissipated.

I ran to the phone and dialed, still staring at the place he’d vanished from.

“He’s back,” I said into the receiver.

“The ghost?” Ian’s voice climbed an octave higher.

“Yes. I just saw him.” Draining my glass, I wondered what I should say. I’d been having dream-sex with my ghost? I reached for the wine bottle.

“What did he do?”

“Nothing. He just appeared, then left.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think so. Just a little freaked out.” I sat down, afraid I might fall.

“Understandable, but he sounds harmless enough. That kind of apparition is pretty tame. What happened right before he appeared?”

“Uh, I spoke to him. Told him to stay out of the bathroom. You know, privacy.”

Ian chuckled. “That’s what you get for talking to him. If I were a ghost, I’d follow you in there too.”

“Perv.” I cleared my throat. “You really think there isn’t anything to worry about?”

“Probably not. He likely appeared because you spoke to him. As long as nothing sinister is happening and you don’t feel threatened, it should be fine.”

Threatened? Not exactly. More like invaded. “Okay, but will you be around later if I need you?”

“Sure. Do you want me to come over?”

I mulled it over for a minute. I really did want to relax and work on my online store, but at the same time I knew any hope of concentrating was shot now. “Do you want to come watch a movie?”

“Sure. Give me about forty-five minutes, and I’ll be over. Want me to bring a DVD?”

“Yes, surprise me.” I didn’t really care what we watched. I just didn’t want to be alone. “And if you have any more ghost repellent, bring it too.”

“Will do.”

I sat rigid on the couch. A ghost invaded my dreams. How was that possible? I’d seen an outline of him before in my apartment, but not a detailed one. It couldn’t just be my subconscious. I’d never seen him before.

Shaking my head, I recalled the very real emotions of Mr. Sexy. Every day I let my guard down in the apartment and didn’t feel his intense emotions while awake. Only while dreaming. I shivered. If he did visit me in my dreams, did he stick around to witness my intense and very private scenes with Kane? I didn’t think so. In those scenes the only emotions I remembered were Kane’s, which felt just as real.

Lowering my head to my hands, I rubbed my temples. Kane certainly wasn’t a ghost, and I dreamt of his emotions too. Dreaming while reading emotions was something I’d never experienced before. I’d just thought it was a new dimension in my dream world. Now I didn’t know what to think. I guessed it was possible Mr. Sexy visited me in my dreams, and then my subconscious took over, pushing him out and replacing him with Kane—the one I actually wanted to be with.

Should I tell Ian about the dream visits? What would I say—that I spent my nights getting intimate with my ghost until Kane showed up and things got even more imaginative? God, no! I could barely even think about my dreams without heat burning my cheeks. They were like nothing I’d ever experienced before and way more intimate than anything I’d ever shared with anyone, including my two ex-boyfriends.

Maybe I could just tell him Mr. Sexy appeared in my dreams and leave Kane out of it altogether. I sighed heavily. I didn’t want to talk about any of it, but if I wanted help, I’d have to.

***

The alarm buzzed at four-thirty a.m., and the springs creaked as Ian rolled over. I slid out of bed, eyeing the coffee maker. I bypassed it and tiptoed my way to the bathroom. I could get coffee at the café, but I just didn’t function well until I’d had my first cup.

After showering, I spent ten minutes applying a bit of makeup and arranging my wet hair into a bun. When I emerged I found Ian upright, his hair tousled, sipping fresh coffee.

“Oh, you are a god!” I squealed and pivoted to pour my own cup of glorious java.

“Not the response I anticipated, but I’ll take it.” He smiled.

I grinned and took in his very cute bed-head look. “Sorry I had to wake you so early.”

“No problem. I need to head home and get ready for work anyway.” He fished around, searching for his shoes.

“They’re over here.” I pointed to the end of the bed. “Did you sleep okay?”

He slipped his feet in the unlaced Vans. “Yep, like a baby. You?”

“Best night’s sleep since I moved in.” I hadn’t dreamt of Mr. Sexy or Kane, to my immense relief. I’d die of embarrassment if Ian heard me call out in my sleep for another man—if I did, in fact, call out in my sleep. Judging by the intensity the dreams held, I wouldn’t be surprised.