Spirit of Seduction

Spirit of
Seduction

By Wynter Daniels

Copyright 2011 Wynter Daniels

Smashwords Edition

Published by Wynter Daniels

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This book is a work of fiction. The names,
characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s
imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be
construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead,
actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews,
this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any
means existing without written permission from the author.

Discover other titles by Wynter Daniels at
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Enough

Game
of Smoke and Mirrors

Bride
from the Black Lagoon

Employee Relations

Table of
Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Ryan stared at the ceiling, wishing sleep
would come. Three nights now he hadn’t so much as nodded off for a
few minutes. Dream-like visions of his sister’s friend Emily kept
filling his head like a catchy song he couldn’t quite banish from
his mind. Sometimes erotic, other times disturbing, he wasn’t sure
what to make of her intrusions into his brain. They weren’t exactly
on friendly terms.

He’d only seen her once in the past couple
years, at Becky’s funeral last month. He didn’t think she’d seemed
angry anymore at the disparaging comments he’d made when Becky had
told him Emily professed to be psychic.

He saw her face in his mind’s eye, her long
dark hair cascading over her shoulders down to her full breasts.
She was nude and lovely with skin like silky caramel and bewitching
gold eyes too wise for a woman so young.

He kissed her, tasted exotic spices and all
the pleasure she held in store for him. He plunged his fingers into
her hair and they all but disappeared into the thick black strands.
Her petite body fit perfectly against his, as if destiny had joined
them.

He shook his head to banish the image. God,
he was so tired. Sitting up, he buried his face in his hands. He
couldn’t stop thinking about her and the hot sex they had in his
fantasy. But he couldn’t control the horror at the end of it. Worst
part was the gnawing feeling that the vision was more than a
reaction to how long it had been since he’d made love to a woman.
It felt like some sort of premonition.

He’d never believed in ghosts or any other
paranormal nonsense as Becky and her friends had. He and Becky had
argued about it for months before her death. Although lately he was
beginning to wonder if maybe they weren’t crazy after all. Maybe
they’d tapped into something, another realm. Because he definitely
felt an unearthly presence around him.

Hell, maybe he
was
going nuts. The shock
of Becky’s murder four weeks ago had shaken him to his very
foundation. Who wouldn’t go off the deep end for a while after
having someone they loved ripped away under such horrifying
circumstances? Not knowing who’d killed her had been eating at his
soul every moment since the day of her death. After their parents’
death, he’d taken on the role of Becky’s protector, whether she’d
known it or not. Left with no other family, they were all each
other had. And he’d let her down when she’d needed him
most.

He peeled back the sweat-damp sheet, set his
feet on the wood floor then switched on the bedside lamp. Eerie
moon shadows danced beyond the window but it wasn’t anything
outside that concerned him. This wasn’t the first time he’d felt a
haunting presence in the room, hovering near him. The air felt
thick, rank and damp. He got up to open the window but stopped
dead.

What the hell?

A woman all in white stood on the edge of
the woods. There was something familiar about her. He quietly eased
open the window to get a better look. She stared right at him and
his knees went weak.

Becky?

He fisted his hands and dug his fingernails
painfully into his skin to confirm he was truly awake.

The spirit seemed to float next to the black
oak tree. “Heed your vision.” She was too far away for him to have
heard her voice yet he did all the same.

“
Becky!” He stumbled
backward until he crashed into the bed.

The apparition was gone as suddenly as it
had appeared. Gulping for air, he grasped the footboard, sure he
must still be dreaming.

“Becky…wait!” He lunged toward the window
but she was gone before he could ask who’d killed her. Scrubbing a
hand over his face, he wondered if he’d lost his mind.

Could someone be playing a cruel joke on
him? Who would do such a thing? And how would anyone know about the
visions he’d been having? He hadn’t told a soul for fear he’d be
committed.

He yanked on jeans then shoved his .45 into
his waistband and headed downstairs. Armed with flashlight, he
searched his property, calling her name but he found nothing.

I didn’t imagine her.

This might have been the first time he’d
actually seen her since she’d passed away, but deep inside, he’d
sensed her presence for weeks now. He’d shrugged it off as part of
his frustration over not knowing who’d murdered her. He wasn’t
ready to admit he’d seen a ghost but he was positive some unknown
force was at work.

Had his mental images of Emily been a dire
prediction for her or had it just ? Maybe she was really in danger.
Desperate as he was to learn the identity of Becky’s killer, the
more urgent issue was to warn Emily she might not be safe.

For some reason he’d clipped the article in
the paper that she’d helped the police over in Raleigh with a
murder investigation last year. His rational mind told him nothing
paranormal was real but he couldn’t deny what he’d just witnessed
with his own eyes. Like it or not, he had to look into it.

His sister deserved justice and her friend
needed to know she could be in trouble.

* * * * *

Emily got up from her nail table and strode
to the front desk to check on her next client, the last of the day.
She glanced at the appointment book and blinked at the name written
there. Her mouth went dry. Could it really be…

Stay calm.

She swung around to search the waiting area
for him and tried to school the fear from her expression when her
gaze landed on Ryan Barnes, still as devastatingly handsome as
ever.

Questions raced through her mind in a
millisecond. What did he want? How did he find her? Did he know how
badly she’d crushed on him years ago? Why had she left the house
without putting on any makeup that morning? Why did she still find
him so damn attractive even after he’d humiliated her in front of
all his sister’s friends?

“Hey,” he said from a seat by the window. He
closed the distance between them and pulled her into a stiff
hug.

She shut her eyes a moment, attempting to
banish her body’s response to him—the heat at every point of
contact, the almost dizzy feeling in her head and the pounding of
her heart.

For God’s sake, he’s just a guy, a guy who
hadn’t treated very well. She didn’t have a lot of male clients but
it wasn’t as if she never saw any men.

“It’s been forever,” she said, trying to
keep her tone light. “Well, I guess we saw each other at the
funeral but…” She tamped down the sadness at the memory of her
friend’s death. “How are you?”

Why are you here?

He was so tall, well over six feet with the
same sandy brown hair and crystal blue eyes as Becky. He looked a
few months past due for a haircut and the stubble on his cheeks
told her he hadn’t shaved for a couple days. His face wasn’t
perfect, far from it, but she still found him way too handsome. He
had an inch-long scar over his left eye and his nose looked like it
had been broken at least once. Hadn’t Becky told her he’d had a few
injuries from the martial arts tournaments he’d competed in?

Pressed to his hard body, she drew in a
breath laced with his scent, like a pine forest. She quickly
extricated herself, given that they were in the middle of the
salon.

“I’m okay. What about you?” He skimmed his
gaze over her, lingered at her breasts.

Red hot awareness rushed through her. She
closed her arms over her chest and steadied herself. She sensed
tension in his face based on the lines fanning out from his pale
eyes and the taut set of his mouth. “I’m fine, great. So you really
want a manicure, huh? I never figured you for the type.”

Definitely
not the type. She guessed his hands were rough as
his boots, as well-used as the jeans he wore. What would those
hands feel like on her skin? The thought sent a shiver of
excitement rolling over her skin.

Ridiculous.

“I’d be happy to put you in with one of the
other nail techs if you prefer.” She hoped he’d refuse her
offer.

He shook his head. “I want you.”

Clearly he was only referring to his
manicure but his simple declaration stirred wickedly erotic
thoughts. Why she was attracted to a man she disliked, a man who
obviously couldn’t stand her, was a mystery to her yet she couldn’t
pretend the attraction didn’t exist. She recalled their interaction
two years ago at a birthday celebration for Becky. He’d actually
called her a shyster to her face, in front of the thirty-odd party
guests.

“I need to talk to you,” he added.

She clenched her jaw and forced herself to
concentrate on the here and now. “Why didn’t you just call me? Why
go to the trouble to make a manicure appointment?”

His sheepish shrug fanned the flames of her
attraction. “I didn’t think you’d agree to speak to me after…you
know, what I’d said to you.”

“I spoke to you at Becky’s funeral and as
far as I can remember, I didn’t bite your head off, did I?”

“Yeah, but that was a
funeral. You’re not
that
cruel, are you?” He gave her a wink and an
unwanted jolt of heat coursed through her.

His teasing dissipated some of the tension
and she managed to smile. “C’mon back.”

He shrugged out of a faded leather jacket
and hung it over the hook near the door, giving her a view of the
vee from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist. She had to admit
he had a certain muscular, rugged appeal. And his kind of muscle
was built through hard physical labor rather than in a gym. If she
remembered correctly, he restored old houses himself then flipped
them, did all the upgrades and repairs himself. She pictured him
shirtless, sawing a two-by four, as she’d seen him once working on
something at Becky’s house, his well-developed biceps and triceps
flexing with each stroke. Her face flushed and the room grew
warmer, but she forced herself to squash the memory.

He walked with her to her nail table,
looking totally out of place in the pink and white salon in his
jeans and the t-shirt that hugged every sinewy inch of his chiseled
upper body. “I wanted to talk to you and a phone call wouldn’t cut
it.”

She swallowed hard and curled her fingers
over the edge of the table. “Is this about Becky? Did they find out
who did it?”

The furrow in his brow deepened as he sat
across from her. “No, but it is about her. You know I’ve never been
a believer in all that supernatural junk like you…and Becky.”

She stiffened at his
characterization and felt a headache start behind her eyes.
Her
gift
had only
brought her fear and grief.

“But something happened last night to change
my mind about all that.” He glanced side to side then lowered his
voice. “I saw her, or her ghost, I guess. Scared the shit out of
me. She disappeared so fast I couldn’t ask her anything like why
she was there, or…”

“Or who killed her.” A chill crawled up her
spine.