JanesPrize (7 page)

“I guess so but I’m not sure. She’s a
condemned spirit and I’m a victim. Most ghosts are poor helpless creatures,
doomed to walk around the place where they died because…”

“Because?” She stopped for a red light and
glanced at him. His face was serious for once.

“There can be lots of reasons. They might
not believe they’re dead so they have to realize they can move on. Or they need
to warn someone. Or the event in which they died was so sudden and fraught with
emotion they are trapped together with others. That’s the saddest.”

“That was your situation?”

“Right.” He nodded. “Imagine all eternity
reliving the same murder.”

She shivered despite the warmth of the day.
The light changed and someone hooted behind her. She drove on.

“So your stepmother is alone now?”

“I guess so.”

“Could someone release her by touching
her?”

“Theoretically it might be possible but I
think she’s gone now she no longer has a victim.”

“Let’s hope she has. Otherwise she might
want to try again.”

She pulled into the motel and found a slot
near his room. The back of his hand rested gently on her lap and she felt the
heat pulsing from it. He exerted no pressure, just sat there, letting the mute
question do his asking.

She held on to the steering wheel and took
a deep breath. “Before I left I promised my friend Annice that I’d have coffee
with her today after work at Full o’ Beans in town. She’ll be waiting for me.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s best not. I’m not ready for her
to meet you yet. She won’t be as easy to fool as my mother. She’ll ask lots
more questions and we have to have some reasonable answers worked out before
she does.” She twined her fingers into his on her lap. “I’ll come back in an
hour or so.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Chapter Seven

“You mean you actually saw a ghost?”
Annice’s voice matched the “pull the other one” expression on her face. She was
the legal assistant to one of the foremost lawyers in town and wore a tailored
suit, albeit with a very short skirt, that showed off her great legs. She
pushed her leather satchel on an empty chair.

“I think so.” Jane hoped that the footage
on the video recorder was good enough to convince the law firm there was
something there and poor enough to prevent anyone identifying the person in the
image. “There was definitely something on the video.”

“This I have to see.”

Jane shook her head. “It belongs to the
firm. I have to give it to them first.” Besides, she had to check it out
herself before anyone else saw it.

“So tell me what happened. You set up camp,
right?”

Jane gave an outline of her time at the
Newland mansion, omitting the part about Pierce and his stepmother, about
taking a flying leap toward Pierce. She also left out all the details about
making love with a resurrected ghost. Without all the dramatic and spooky bits
it was a pretty boring account.

“So what was it? On the video? Were you
scared out of your wits?”

“I only saw a faint shape, just a flicker
of movement. I couldn’t tell what it might be. No I wasn’t scared.” Sitting in
a bright, busy coffee shop she began to wonder if her adventure had really
happened.

“Were there noises, things thrown around?”

“That’s poltergeists.”

“Whatever.” Annice took another sip of her
iced chai latte. “Take me out there.”

“What?”

“You still have the keys, don’t you?”

Jane had foolishly confided that she
wouldn’t return the camera and the keys until Friday morning. She nodded.

“If you can’t show me the film at least you
can take me where it’s supposed to have happened.”

“What’s the point? You don’t believe me.”

“Darn right I don’t believe you. I know how
fanciful you can get. You were hallucinating, being all alone and everything.
The only way to convince you there’s nothing there is to go back again. Who
knows,” she said with a sly smile as she licked some foam from her stir stick,
“you might convince me if the ghost decides to appear.” She made a woo-woo
gesture in the air with the stick.

“Annice—” Jane paused. There was no way she
could tell her what really happened.

“If you won’t take me I’ll go on my own.
There has to be a way to break in.” She looked at Jane, seeming to sense that
she was winning. “We’ll go tonight.”

Jane opened her mouth to protest then
shrugged. “There’s something else.”

“What? Extraterrestrials?”

“I met someone while I was away.”

Even Annice was shocked into momentary
silence. She made a “more, more” gesture with one hand.

“He happened to come by the mansion while I
was there.”

“He? Happened?”

“Well, he wanted to see the old house. We
got to talking.” She felt the heat rise in her face. “I gave him a ride back
into town.” She prayed that Annice wouldn’t ask how he had got to the house in
the first place. “I’m meeting him later.”

“Well, you certainly had an interesting
couple of days. Ghosts and hunks.” She shot Jane a glance. “I’m assuming he is
a hunk.”

Jane nodded. “You could say that.” She
caught a movement by the door of the coffee shop and stared, transfixed. Annice
turned to look at what had caught her attention. Pierce shouldered his way
through the customers and stood by the counter, scanning the tables.

Annice turned back to Jane. “My oh my,” she
said. “Is that him?”

Jane could only nod wordlessly as Pierce
caught her eye and began to stride toward their table. As he drew closer, she
had ample time to congratulate herself on the choice of clothes. His jeans
hugged his slim hips. His shirt clung to wide shoulders and tapered nicely to
his waist and the wide leather belt. He moved easily and purposefully, a
triumphant grin on his lips.

“That,” Annice whispered, “is a hunk.”

A half-hour later, Annice pushed her empty
cup away and stood. “So it’s settled. We’ll go out just before it gets dark.”

Jane nodded weakly. She’d argued with her
friend but Annice had grown more pigheaded the more she heard why she shouldn’t
go.

Pierce got to his feet. “We’ll pick you up
at nine,” he said. “It’s a beautiful house. You’ll like it.”

“Just a quick visit to prove there’s no
such thing as a ghost.”

Pierce nodded, his face serious. “You’re
right.”

Annice swung her purse strap onto her
shoulder. “You guys,” she said. “If your video’s any good, you could sell it as
another
Blair Witch Project
. See you later.”

Jane watched her leave. Pierce remained
standing.

“I thought you were going to wait for me,”
she said.

“I was bored and decided to try to find my
own way around. I did it!”

“You sure did.”

“Now can we go back to the motel?” he
asked, running one fingertip along her bare arm.

Jane pushed back her chair, trying to ignore
the ripple of fire that snaked along her arm and right to her core. “We
shouldn’t be going back to the house.”

“Hey, she would have argued all day if we’d
let her. I’ve got other things in mind for my time. Let’s go.” He took her hand
and led her out to the street.

Jane unlocked the car. She should pinch
herself to make sure she was awake and not dreaming this fantasy. But the man
beside her was solid flesh, warm and very much alive. He wanted to take her
back to the motel and the bed that waited there because he wanted to make love
to her again. And she was following willingly, even eagerly.

Pierce opened the door of the motel room,
his blood already pounding in his head and behind the solid zipper of these
newfangled pants she had found for him. He seized her in his arms, hearing her
little gasp, half pleasure, half surprise. Holding her tight against him he
kicked the door closed, narrowing his eyes in the dimness. The extraordinary
places he’d seen in the few hours since he’d been alive again were making his
head spin. There was so much to take in. He’d told her he was here for good and
that’s what he believed. But he couldn’t help wondering if it all could be
snatched away from him in the blink of an eye. He’d told the truth when he’d
said there were not many ghosts who were touched strongly enough that they came
back to the world.

A transient ghost had once told him that
there had to be a bond between the rescuer and the phantom but he was hard
pressed to see what bond existed between him and Jane before she’d barreled
into him. Maybe it was something to do with a future link. That idea appealed.

For sure there was a bond now. True, he’d
spent four decades without feeling a woman in his arms and he’d been hungry
with a raw, biting hunger. That first time they’d come together had been pure
carnal instinct and natural humanity but now it was more.

He felt the length of her body against him
and kissed the top of her head. He loved the way she fit so neatly under his
chin. He loved the way the curve of her body pressed against his hardness.
“This is where you belong,” he whispered. “Close to me.”

She set her hands on his shoulders. Little
darts of electricity seemed to tease his muscles. A deep ache clamped on his
groin.

He felt her shiver. His hands smoothed her
back, feeling the structure of her body, the firmness of her spine, the swell
of her hips. It was unbelievable. He’d known her such a short time. He breathed
in her scent and savored her softness, her warmth against him. He was starting
to think this should last forever.

He might love the feel of her, of her skin,
her face, her breasts, her lips, but he also savored the sound of her voice as
it caught in her throat. He treasured the glint of excitement in her eyes that
seemed to set a spark to his male ego, provoking a pulsing, desperate arousal
that must be satisfied.

The insatiable drumming in his groin
threatened to take over his brain. A mist floated over his eyes and he could
see nothing clearly, could only feel. His mouth found hers and he tasted the
sweetness, sensed the fragility of her bones. All he wanted was to lie over
her, to feel her yield as she had done before, letting him into her, taking him
deep inside her, making murmurs of desire and contentment.

He pulled her shirt up and let his fingertips
flutter against the muscles of her back.

She pulled her mouth from his. “I want
you,” she whispered, meeting his eyes, echoing his own thoughts, making his
heart leap.

He stepped back and ripped at his shirt. “I
think you said that once before. And my answer’s the same—not half as much as I
want you.”

Suddenly they were both moving, shedding
clothing until they were naked. He stretched out his arms for her but she did
not move into them. She stood, feet slightly apart, letting him gaze his fill
at her breasts, her waist, the flare of her hips, the soft curls concealing her
mound. With one fingertip, he traced the line of a blue vein in her breast to
where it met her nipple. The brown bud puckered and stood out. He smiled.
“Nice,” he whispered.

She shuddered but still did not move.

He dropped to his knees and ran his hands
up her legs. He felt the slight tremor in her muscles and his cock hardened
even more. He seized her wrists and held her firm as he pleasured her with his
mouth and tongue. The world faded. Every thought was gone, save for the silky
warmth of her skin under his fingertips. He touched the tip of his tongue to
the sensitive spot between her legs and she quivered again and moaned. The
insides of her thighs were moist with her juice. He sucked the nub of her clit
between his lips and held her a prisoner of his mouth and hands. She arched her
spine and threw back her head, widening her stance to give him more access to
her dark, soft places.

He released her hands and grasped the
mounds of her buttocks, still sucking on her clit. He felt her hands on his
head, her fingers in his hair, pulling him even tighter against her.

This woman filled him with wild, wanton
ideas of what he would like to do to her and at the same time made him think of
gentleness, loving-kindness and sweetness.

She uttered another sound deep in her
throat and he tasted another rush of creamy liquid. He dug his fingers into the
crease between her cheeks and at the same time released the tender flesh of her
clit from his mouth. She groaned again and he blew delicately onto her heat,
following it with a featherlike caress with his tongue. As if he had touched a
match to a tinderbox, she exploded, the orgasm pushing her vulva against his
mouth again, making her legs shake and her whole frame tremble. He held her on
her feet while the storm swept over her until she sagged over him, spent and
weak.

He stood and swept her into his arms and
turned toward the bed. She clung to him, her face pressed to his chest, one arm
draped over his shoulder.

In the small room, it was a bare two
strides to the bed. He fell with her onto the tangled sheets, already scented
with their lovemaking.

She snaked the fingers of one hand between
his legs, cupping his balls, moving gently, kneading him while she stroked him
just enough to bring him to the edge. This time her eyes stayed on him as she
inflicted exquisite torture, watching the fleeting expressions on his face as
his desire grew and his penis swelled. At last she lay back and spread her legs
for him in silent invitation. He felt her damp softness against his hot flesh
and slid into her warm sheath with a deep sigh of pleasure. He was big enough
to fill her completely and he felt her muscles tighten to hold him. Jane seized
his hair with two hands and snaked her legs around his hips, driving him yet
deeper into her. The tip of his cock pressed against the wall of her womb and
he erupted into fire.

Jane had drifted off into a light doze. She
came to with her mouth dry as the desert sand. She needed water. Pierce
appeared to be asleep. Not surprising considering all the extra energy he’d
been using for the past couple of days. Quietly she slid out of his arms and
took a glass from the tiny bathroom. Propping her behind against the dresser as
she sipped the tepid liquid, she looked at the man in her bed. Well not exactly
her bed but close enough.

He’d passed a couple of tests already.
Annice was drop-dead gorgeous and he’d not even given her a second glance. One
temptation down, two thousand more to go. And he’d made a great impression on
her mother.

But there was still the plan to return to
the mansion. What if Pierce had got it wrong and his stepmother had remained
there, haunting away and looking for some unsuspecting mortal to bring her
back? She was a murderer, even if she’d gotten away with it for a while. That
prompted another question—for how long? When did she die? Mental note to look
up the death certificate.

One more thing to add to the list.

Jane finished the glass of water and began
to look for her discarded garments. She retrieved her bra and panties from
under the tangle of bedclothes but her jeans and shirt were scattered near the
door. Her clothes bundled in her arms, she slipped into the bathroom again for
a quick shower. Her movements must have roused Pierce because when she emerged
he was wide awake, his head propped on one hand.

He sat up in the bed, a picture of warm
golden skin, smooth muscles and tousled hair. Jane couldn’t believe that such a
body had been hers, all hers, and she stared, transfixed by the hard beauty of
him.

“What is it?”

She felt herself blush and dipped her head
to towel her hair. “You look good.”

Her head was covered and her voice muffled
but she heard the bed creak as he moved. Even with the damp towel over her face
she knew when he came close. The heat from his body vibrated around her. He
drew the towel from her hair and threw it on the floor.