Authors: Wendi Zwaduk
Careless Whisper (3 page)
Talk about a revelation. He wanted to see her? Narrowing her eyes, she attempted what she hoped was her best frustrated face. “Go back to your little
ghosty
show and pretend I don’t exist, okay? I’m not interested.” She turned away. Maybe she’d given up a chance to show her skills with a camera, but she’d held onto her dignity and that was more important, right? It didn’t feel so right all of a sudden. It felt wrong—like she’d made the mistake of her career. God, she hated the flip-floppy feelings swirling in her mind.
“I have three days to work things out and I can’t film the next episode when you’re running rampant through my thoughts.”
Without looking at him, she snorted and buried her fingers in her hair. Give the man credit for trying. “Does that line work on anyone?”
Running the backs of his fingers along her bare arm, Ryan knelt next to her, demanding her attention without words. Sincerity and something else she couldn’t pinpoint shone in his dark eyes. “Are you falling for me?”
“No.”
Not at all…not
in the least bit…maybe a little…damn.
“Then I’m oh for one, and still in need of a camera operator.” The stroke of his finger on her skin sent shivers through her body. “Tell me you’re game. I’ll beg.”
She swallowed hard, ignoring the ache between her thighs. At this rate she’d need to run home to change her sopping panties.
“Besides, Matilda bugged Tony and got the waiver for the both of us.” He stood at his full height and sighed. The mirth in his eyes reached the gentle curves of his mouth. “In all honesty, if it’s not you, then I’m in big trouble. I’ll give you my vital stats if it helps.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Where to begin?
I was born in
I’ve got a BA in journalism and I hate spiders. Oh, and I reserve Sunday afternoons to root for the Cleveland Browns.” He grinned, the mirth sparkling in his eyes as well as across his lips. “Convinced I’m not the bogey man?”
Widowed? She chewed the inside of her cheek. He could still be the devil in blue jeans for all she knew. Despite her gut feeling to back away, Samara’s resistance crumbled.
“Fine.”
The grin blossomed into a full wattage smile. “See? I knew I’d start to work on you. In no time, I’ll prove to you I’m loveable and sexy.” His brows bobbed as if to punctuate his words.
Before she could form an answer, Ryan strolled away from her cubicle and into the main aisle. Even after she bluntly ignored his come-ons, he’d persisted. Okay, she had to give him kudos for determination, but he cancelled out his progress when he told her he’d basically already signed her up for the investigation. Still, he deserved merit points for good looks…and for being widowed. She’d have to file that away.
Shit. As much as she wanted to not fall for him, she had.
Always the ones out of reach.
Samara refocused on her computer and blinking icon on the desktop.
One new message.
She opened the email document.
To S. Jacobs
From M. Snodgrass
CC: T. Cox
Re: GE Investigation 8/5
Samara, I signed you up to work with Ryan. He insists your camera work is above standards and won’t settle for another person. Please come to my office tomorrow by 4 to sign the waiver. You and Ryan will take a tour of the
Tx
,
M. S.
Samara leant back in her seat and rubbed her forehead with the pads of her fingers. “So now I’m a Ghost Explorer. Wonderful.”
Chapter Four
Ryan sat on the edge of Matilda’s desk and drummed his fingers on his thighs. He’d offered the job to Samara twenty-four hours earlier.
Plenty of time for her to change her mind and avoid him.
Ample time for her to accept.
He glanced at the door. Each time he’d tried to talk to her, Samara took another route or left before he could catch her.
Had he said too much? Not enough? If she was supposed to be his Spirit Mate, she didn’t seem terribly interested.
For her part, Matilda sat on the couch, sipping a glass of wine and examining her crimson nails. Never one to confine herself behind a barrier, she snuggled into the plush leather and dangled her shoe from her toes, bouncing the pump to a rhythm only she could hear.
“I don’t know what you see in her. She’s rather plain and a tad on the chunky side.
Sits at her computer too much.”
Boredom tinged her sugary sweet voice. “Thank God Tony isn’t here. He’s part of the reason I want to move on. He’s so stuffy.” She pointed her foot in Ryan’s direction. “Speaking of stuffy, how do you like these shoes? They looked cute online, but I’m not sure they showcase my legs?”
“I haven’t looked at your legs.” Ryan groaned. Trust her to turn the conversation to herself. “Just because you think you know everything about everyone doesn’t mean you know me.”
He stood and began to pace. Snippets of his conversations with Samara danced in his head. “I gave Samara my best personal pitch, but what if she doesn’t show? What if she laughs in my face? She’s not exactly my biggest fan, even if she did agree.”
“That’s what you like about her, though, and you feel sympathy for her.”
Compassion might have made the list, but it wasn’t near the top of the reasons he liked Samara. He’d rather explore her inch by inch, touching and tasting her sweet skin, finding the honey spots where she cooed and moaned. Until then—if a relationship with Samara happened—he needed to deal first with his erection, then helping
Matty
move on to the great beyond. He shifted his jeans to relieve the pressure. “You’d better stop drinking. Besides the fact that you’ll never get drunk, someone will think you actually care about Samara. On second thought, care to your heart’s content. It might help you get out of here and advance to the next level, away from Tony.”
“
Pah
, I don’t give a rat’s rumpled arse about her. But you! You have a soft spot for the damsel in distress…and yes, the woman needs saving. She needs a rescue from her hideous wardrobe and that ridiculous hairstyle. No one wears side-swept bangs these days.”
“Believe it or not, I really like her. She’s sexy in a beguiling way.”
Matilda burst out laughing and nodded to the door.
“What?”
“I think she heard us.”
Samara stood just inside of the door, cheeks the colour of crushed red velvet and the line of her mouth white with tension. “Hello Matilda, Ryan. You wanted to see me?”
Tension and Matilda’s perfume hung thick in the room. Ryan’s gaze vacillated between Samara and Matilda in a combination of shock and disbelief. Samara saw Matilda. She had the gift.
Ignoring Matilda’s cackle, Ryan strode forward, waiver in hand. He needed to speak to Samara as soon as humanly possible. “I want to see you, but not here.” He ushered Samara through the doorway and down the hall. “I’d like to talk to you without prying eyes.” He stopped at the atrium, finding solace in the lush greenery and cooler air. “I’m sorry—she’s being herself.”
“You don’t have to apologise. I’m used to the digs and insults.”
She stared at him with wide eyes. She’d been hurt before, he wasn’t sure how, but the pain resonated deep in the blue orbs. He’d like to kill the bastard who had
ribboned
her dignity. Had he been any better, acting like she should fall at his feet because he told her so? Or maybe he should mention her gift and really drive her away… No, he sensed something stronger with Samara, something destined.
He shored up his courage. With Felicity, he believed the lies. For Samara, he’d be completely honest. “I wanted you to come along tomorrow, but not because you were forced. I know you’re a damned good camera tech. Why Tony had you moved to the cubicles is beyond me.”
“From what I’ve heard, he gets off on torture.” Samara shrugged and toyed with the brick in the amber retaining wall, scraping her thumbnail over the rough surface. “Look, I’m game for the investigation. You don’t have to beg or inflate my ego.”
He crunched the paper in his grip. “The waiver is a formality in case we get hurt.” His heart ached in his chest. Maybe he did like women who were out of his league, but
dammit
, he wanted Samara too much to ignore the feeling that she was more than just another female. “I wanted you to come along because I like you and I’d like for you to like Ryan, not
the
Ryan Black. Does that make sense?”
The faintest hint of a smile fluttered on her kissable mouth. “You’ve stepped through too many cobwebs. They’ve fuzzed your brain.”
Ah, the sass returned. He hooked his fingers under her chin, thrilled by the tiny gasp as she parted her lips. “For one of the few times in my life, my mind is perfectly clear.” Without thinking any further, he feathered a kiss over her mouth and bit back a groan. Damn, she felt good. Like a woman should, sweet, sassy, and soft in his hands. He closed his eyes and pushed the kiss further, tasting her.
Honey, pure feminine honey.
When she wound her arms around his neck, he fought off the urge to jump for joy. The one woman he wanted to desire him seemed like she did!
With languid strokes, he caressed her back and cupped the base of her skull. Samara Jacobs embodied calm and restraint, but her kiss intoxicated him like the finest whisky. The denim of his jeans pulled tight over his erection. He could almost imagine the velvet of her body as he slid into her pussy. Fuck
yes,
he liked her, probably more than he should.
He pushed into her mind for a split second, just to see if he could.
Ryan Black is kissing
me
!
Holy fuck.
If he could hear her thoughts as if they were his own, then she was the one. His true Spirit Mate. Life couldn’t get better.
When he broke the kiss, Samara’s warm breath skittered over his cheeks. He had her on edge as much as he was—nice. She smoothed her hands down his chest, splaying them across his
pecs
. “You make it hard to think.”
“So do you.” A shiver raced up his spine, but not because of Samara. No, they had a visitor in their private hideaway. If only Samara understood the actions of the walking dead.
Soon.
“You realise you aren’t allowed to kiss staff.” Matilda wagged her finger at Ryan. “I paired you up because you begged, not so you could get friendly on my time.”
The blush returned to Samara’s cheeks. Stooping, she retrieved the wavier he hadn’t remembered dropping. She stood and withdrew a pen from her back pocket. “Hold still.” She smoothed the paper over his chest and scrawled her name. “Here’s this. I was never here.” She ducked around him and disappeared through the glass doors.
No matter how hard he tried, Ryan couldn’t tear the smile from his heart or his lips. He’d found his missing piece.
“Yuck, you’re grinning like a fool in love,” Matilda snapped. “I thought you were my boy toy.”
He frowned and tore his gaze from the doorway to peer at his boss. The venom laced in her words floated through his brain. “
Matty
, I respect you and your power. I do. But I want a woman who isn’t a spectral and really is interested in me. Samara is the one.”
“Then you
are
in love?”
“Could be, but it’s a little early in the game to be certain. I know her, but I barely
know
her.” Unless love at first sight could strike twice, he’d take his time with Samara and romance his Spirit Mate right.
“I can see it clear as if I were alive. Once
Honoria
finds out about the connection, she’ll make it her life’s work to get you together.” Matilda harrumphed. “I couldn’t hold you forever.”
“And you protest my finding a flesh and bone girlfriend? Or do I hear jealousy in your voice? You and I can’t happen.”
Matilda danced her fingertips along his chest, pursing her lips. She peeked up at him through her darkened lashes. “Let’s just say, I don’t think things will last.”
Taking a step back, Ryan edged towards the exit. “Then it’s a good thing you aren’t dating staff.”
“Even if she is your Spirit Mate, she won’t help you find Felicity.”
Ryan strode out of the atrium and straight to the hole in the wall he called an office.
The nerve of Matilda trying to butt in.
To bring up Felicity.
The woman, no matter how
undead
she was, drove him berserk almost as much as his former wife. Why
Matty
had latched on to him, he wasn’t sure. Probably because she figured he could help her get wherever she was going—heaven or, most likely, hell.
Taking a deep breath, he clicked his door shut and closed his eyes. Peace and just a moment to calm down. He released the breath and opened his eyes. There, on his couch, sat the other irritation in his life, albeit for different reasons. “Hello,
Honoria
.”
