Ghost Planet (12 page)

“Listen, I’m sorry about Ian. If you like I can give you the schedule for Julia’s counseling sessions, so you can look for him on those days.”

This was kind, and unexpected. “Thank you,” I said earnestly. “I’ll try not to cause you more trouble.”

Murphy eyed me for a moment as I sat feeling awkward and uneasy.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you.”

I swallowed. “Yes?”

“About Caroline—about your mother…”

My heart gave a throb of warning.

“I wanted you to know how sorry I am that—”

“Please.” I dropped my gaze to my hands, which I’d pressed against the tabletop for support.

Murphy hesitated. “I don’t mean to upset you. But if you’re interested—if you like—I discovered the memorial service was recorded—”

“No.” I stood up. “No. It’s kind of you, but—”

I broke off and headed for the closet.

“Elizabeth, wait—”

The lights came up as the door closed behind me. I shut them off and lay down on the pallet. Though I’d washed all the bedding, the rose-scented lotion was tenacious. I liked the fact my predecessor’s presence wasn’t so easily scrubbed away. I’d left up her picture. Kept all her clothes, even the ones that didn’t fit. Made the bed when I got up in the morning because she had struck me as an orderly person.

Tears ran down my temples, trickling into my hair. Murphy’s kindness was both a comfort and a threat. It had loosened all the knots I’d used to bind my grief, and now my head throbbed from the effort of containing it. Despair was not conducive to survival.

As I dried my face on the blanket, the door opened. Murphy stood in silhouette, but light washed over me from the outer room. I sat up and slid my feet to the floor.

He came and knelt beside the pallet.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I keep doing and saying the wrong things. But please don’t hide in here. I don’t want you sleeping here anymore.”

I folded my hands in my lap to stop them trembling. “I don’t mind it. I like having my own space.”

“Then take my room. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

I stared at him, bewildered. “Why, Murphy? You didn’t mind
her
sleeping in here.”

“She was never real to me, Elizabeth. I know that’s not likely to soften you toward me, but I mean to be honest. She was never a person, in my mind. She was my ghost.”

“As am I.”

Murphy sighed and rose to his feet. He held out a hand to help me up.

“It’s no longer that simple, love.”

*   *   *

I wanted to stay put. The closet made me feel safe. Allowed me to escape when I needed to. Maybe I’d feel more exposed, more vulnerable, sleeping in his room. But I believed I understood what it meant to him. We were going to live under a flag of truce. More than that, he wanted to help with my research. That meant I was no longer his shadow, and I didn’t belong on the floor of the laundry room.
Gentlemanly instincts
, Lex had said.

That night was strange and uncomfortable. He came in long enough to collect some clothes and other things, but then he left me alone. I soon discovered the primary benefit of the former setup was that I pretty much had the run of the apartment. I made tea in the middle of the night. Showered any time, and for as long as I liked. Now I had to be conscious of the fact he was sleeping in the middle of the apartment.

The bed was a whole other adjustment. Besides the fact it was luxurious compared to the pallet, it didn’t smell like roses. It smelled like
him
. Not just the spicy-clean smell, but
his
smell—fleshly, male, and intimate.

Once I finally managed to relax enough to drop off to sleep, I slept hard. The sun was well up by the time my growling stomach roused me. All I had with me for clothes were the ones I’d worn the day before, which now smelled like day-old sautéed onions. Glancing around the room, I saw a caramel-colored sweater tossed over the back of a chair at the foot of the bed. I pulled it over my nightgown, which was Aunt Maeve’s size and stretched revealingly across the chest and backside. As the sweater was Murphy’s size, it covered the essentials.

I passed through the bedroom door and froze.

Murphy lay on his back on the sofa, naked from the waist up, his skin like ivory against the dark fabric. My eyes moved slowly over the curves of his upper arms and shoulders. The planes and angles of his stomach and chest. His shoulders were broad, but you wouldn’t call him burly. There was a slender-muscled, thoroughbred beauty to his form.

One long hand rested on the back of the sofa, the other across his abdomen. My gaze slid down to a faint tracing of dark hair that trailed into the waistband of his pajamas.

I swallowed, steadying myself against the doorframe.

As I lifted my gaze I found him watching me. Heat flashed from my forehead to my toes.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice creaky from sleep.

Um
, no. “Uh-huh. Do you mind about the sweater?”

His eyes moved slowly over
me
, aggravating my condition. “Not at all.”

He sat up and pulled a T-shirt over his head.

I cleared my throat and walked to the kitchen. “Can I be trusted to make tea, do you think?”

“With supervision,” he said with a laugh.

He joined me and we got the tea things down together.

“That color is better on you than me,” Murphy observed. It was true—he belonged in cool colors: blue, charcoal, green. The plum-colored fabric that had provided such nice contrast earlier. “Why don’t you keep it,” he went on, “at least until we can find you some other warm clothes.”

I turned to him, leaning my hip against the counter. “You know, I have a bunch of clothes in the container that came from Earth.”

Murphy paused in measuring out the tea. “Braden assumed your family would want your things. They’ve already gone back.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t really surprised. And I’d had mixed feelings about seeing the things from my old life. “No, it’s okay.”

I fiddled nervously with the sugar bowl as Murphy continued to study me. “You know, your eyes are the most unusual color. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it the first time I met you.”

“Back in Ireland, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t notice because they were a different color on Earth. Apparently my alien trademark is yellow eyes.”

He angled his body toward me. Suddenly I was keenly aware of how close he was standing. His hand came to my cheek and he lifted my face so he could get a better look. “Interesting. They’re hardly yellow. But they
are
lovely.” His thumb stroked my cheek. “
You’re
lovely, Elizabeth.”

Oh God, who is seducing whom?

My breaths came in little bursts. His hand drew me in. Or maybe I was the one to sway closer—our bodies were already so close it was hard to be sure. He lifted his other hand to cradle my face. The tip of his nose brushed down the bridge of mine, and our lips met.

It was the first time I’d ever been kissed. No, it wasn’t my first kiss. It wasn’t even
our
first kiss. It was what every first kiss
should
be.

Softly. Once, twice, a third time. His hands trembled as he parted my lips with his tongue. My arms twined around him, pulling him closer. One of his hands slipped behind my head as his other arm wrapped around my shoulders. Our forms merged, seamless.

I don’t know how long this went on before his lips broke from mine, both of us gasping, and brushed down the side of my face to my neck. Heat surged up my spine and I gave a quiet moan, which he answered with a low “Mmm” in my ear.

No! Stop!

The voice in my head drew my attention away from his warm lips on my skin. I tried to ignore it.

STOP!
This time punctuated by a high, chiming series of notes. Someone at the door.

We both jumped and he gave a choked-sounding groan. I dropped my arms, but his hands came again to my face. “I’ll let it go.”

I raised my hands to his wrists. “No. Please. We have to stop.”

He had a feverish look and I worried he wasn’t hearing me. He moved to kiss me again and I said, louder this time, “Murphy, I can’t do this.”

A Woman Scorned

Murphy released me and took a step back. The chime came again, and he ran a hand through his hair and headed for the door.

I sank against the counter, sagging under the weight of hormonal assault and self-loathing. How could I have let this happen again? It was only going to complicate everything. Wreck the trust between us, still vulnerable in its infancy.

Yet all I wanted was to do it again. I could still feel his body against mine … his hands, his lips …

“Lex,” Murphy said with surprise.

I groaned under my breath. She was the last person I wanted to see.

“Wow, Irish—pajamas?” She walked into the apartment, and I thought of a snake slithering into a chicken house. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Isn’t that one of the perks of working from home?”

I didn’t see Lex’s ghost, and assumed he was still out in the hallway.

Lex stepped into the living room. There was no wall between the kitchen and the rest of the apartment, so I could see them clearly.

“Are you sleeping on the couch?”

Think fast, Murphy
. I wondered how often she just showed up at his apartment.

He started gathering up the bedding. “I did last night. Stayed up late watching an old movie.” As he dropped everything into a chair, Lex sat down on the sofa.

“So you’re not working at all,” she said with a laugh. “You’re sleeping in.”

“Hmm, well. Do you want tea? I don’t have any coffee.”

“I’m fine. Come sit down.”

Murphy hesitated before walking over and sinking down next to her. Now I was looking at Lex’s profile and the back of Murphy’s head.

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Irish!”

“My ghost? She’s in the kitchen.”

Lex gazed over her shoulder and I glared at her.

“Are things any better?”

“
I
think so. Would you like to ask
her
?”

“Very funny.” She continued to stare at me, adding blandly, “You know, that sweater looks better on her than it does on you.” I pressed my lips together, keeping my expression neutral. She turned back to Murphy. “I think you should come back to the office.”

“So you can keep an eye on me?”

“It’s nothing against you, Murphy. Any of us would be struggling with this. I’m really worried about you.”

“I told you, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Lex leaned closer, her voice deepening as she said, “It’s an old habit. Can’t seem to give it up.”

Murphy stared at her, apparently confused by the change in her manner. I understood it perfectly.

She traced a finger along his cheek, moving to kiss him. The sudden sick feeling in my stomach kept me from appreciating the fact that I had been right about her.

“Lex!” Murphy sat up. “What are you doing?”

“I would’ve thought that much was obvious.”

“You know that’s not a good idea.”

“No, I don’t. Why?”

“Do you really need me to explain?”

Poor Murphy. It was obvious he’d never seen this coming. Lex reached to touch his face again, and I felt like shouting,
No means no!

“Murphy, don’t you miss this? Don’t you remember how good it was? I always thought when we finished school and settled into our careers we might try again.”

Sounding dumbfounded, Murphy replied, “That’s revisionist history and you know it. We were good for about a month. Then we were a train wreck.”

Yikes. Go easy, Murphy.
(I could afford to be gracious now.)

“That was ten years ago. We were just kids. We’ve both changed.”

“We haven’t changed that much.” Murphy got up and stepped away from the sofa. “Where is this coming from, Lex? I thought we had moved on.”

“Oh, did you?” Anger had usurped the pleading note in her voice. “Do you remember the night of your send-off, back on Earth?”

Uh-oh.

Murphy let out a frustrated sigh. “We were drunk. It was just a kiss.”

“We weren’t
that
drunk. And if that’s how you remember it, you’re a bastard.”

“Lex, you’re my best friend.” Now
he
was pleading. “We’re better as friends. You know we are.”

She jumped up and swung around the sofa to the door. I watched her, thinking how gracefully her body moved, even when pissed off. She looked at Murphy. “Come back to the office.” It sounded like a threat.

Murphy stared at the door after it closed behind her. Then he came back to the kitchen and sat down at the table, his brow furrowed in frustration and anger.

I finished making the tea and carried cups and spoons to the table. When I filled his cup he drank half of it in one gulp. It must have scalded his throat, but he didn’t seem to notice.

As I sat down next to him he said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Well, for one, I said I wasn’t going to do that to you again. Yesterday, to be exact.”

“I don’t think we can fairly call that your fault.”

He watched me as I poured milk into my tea to avoid looking at him.

“Second, I’m sorry about—that.” He nodded his head toward the living room. “I don’t even know what that was. But it was certainly very bad timing.”

“I know what it was.”

He set his cup down, leaning on the table. “Thank God. Please tell me.”

“She thinks she’s losing you. First Julia, and now this new ghost who won’t fade away.” I glanced down at his sweater. “This ghost who goes prancing around in your clothes.”

“But I told you, Lex and I haven’t been more than friends in years.”

I shook my head. I may have rolled my eyes.

“What?”

“You may have a Ph.D., but you’re pretty much as thick as the average male.”

“Brilliant,” he muttered. But he choked on his tea as he laughed.

“Murphy, I think we should do what she says.”