of sirens going off and someone screaming, and then I walked in here and you had the TV blasting.”
“Really? Dreams are so weird.” Though not half as weird as what was going on here. I clasped my hands around the warm ceramic cup and took another gulp of coffee. The caffeine rolled down my throat and kick started my system.
She shrugged and left.
Whew. I pointed a finger at Liam. “Stay.” I tossed him the remote. “Here, play with the TV. Just stop if Marcy walks in, and for God’s sake put the remote down if she does. I’m not sure what her reaction would be to seeing it float in the air.”
“So where are you going?”
“Next door, to my aunt’s house.”
“Can I go?” He started to rise.
“Why don’t you just stay put? Lunch with my parents can be challenging enough without throwing a ghost into the mix.” The mere thought made my stomach knot.
“Whatever you wish.” He sank back down, his gaze locked on the TV. He’d started to surf again. I pushed myself off the couch and went to get ready.
Fifty minutes later, I walked back in.
Liam glanced at me. His head shot up, his eyes widened, and he came to his feet. His gaze slid down my bare arms, shifted to my dress’s fitted waist, then dropped to the flared skirt. The wonderful scent of him intensified. “Lord, you’re beautiful.”
I’d been told that before. But it never had the impact on me it did now. The intensity in his sea-gray eyes and the way he studied me, as if he could strip away the outer layers and see my soul, stunned me. “Thank you,” I managed.
“Your skin glows like fresh honey.” He reached out as if to touch me. His hand hovered inches from my arm, before it dropped to his side.
A pleasurable surge of energy danced under my skin where his hand had hovered. My breath lodged in my throat and refused to move up or down. I opened my mouth and pushed it out in a whoosh. “It’s a good thing you’re a ghost. If you weren’t, I’m afraid I’d have to break my long streak of celibacy.” Eighteen years, but who’s counting.
His eyes narrowed in a male look as old as time. “I’d prefer doing the proposing, but I’d marry you.”
My belly fluttered. “No one said anything about marriage.”
“But you just said…” He shifted and turned his head a bit, a puzzled frown on his face.
“Times have changed. You don’t have to marry someone to have sex with them.”
“Well, that hasn’t changed.” He rocked back on his wheels. “You’d prefer to whore than to wed?”
“How rude.” Heat seeped through my skin. “I didn’t say that. Today, women are men’s equals sexually. We can have sex with whomever we please with no strings attached.”
“And is ‘strings’ a euphemism for marriage?”
Grin. “Yeah, I guess.”
“And I suppose the short dress is acceptable in your time. Yes, it must be,” he answered himself and gracefully left the marriage issue behind. Although the ‘I’d marry you’ certainly continued to whirl in my mind.
“Liam, the dress hits the middle of my knees. I hate to tell you but it isn’t that short. Wait till you see Marcy. My cousin’s dresses never reach past the middle of her thighs.”
“I’m not sure my heart can take it.”
I laughed and plucked a long strand of black hair off my arm.
“Talking to yourself again?” Marcy asked, as she came tripping in on three inch heels, wearing a pretty little square-necked, fitted pink dress that hugged her form and ended, as I’d predicted, at mid-thigh.
“Well knock me into a cocked hat. If that skirt were any shorter, her drawers would be showing.” Liam stared in stunned surprise—albeit with a tinge of male appreciation—at my cousin’s legs.
I giggled.
“What’s the matter? Don’t my shoes match?” She looked down at her polka dot stiletto strappies.
I shook my head but couldn’t stop the laughter that erupted between my teeth. I bent over, holding my waist.
“Caitlin, are you all right?”
“Fine,” I managed to get out and waved her off.
“You’re acting strange. But then you often do.” With her hands on her hips, her flawless brow wrinkled, she studied me.
“Pot calling the kettle black?” I straightened, still grinning but under control. I made a point not to look at Liam.
“Yeah, something like that.” She grinned back, her humor as warped as mine. She took a quick look at me. “Didn’t I tell you those strappy blue heels and that lapis and silver jewelry were perfect accessories for that white dress?”
“Yes, you did. Between you claiming responsibility for my fashion sense and Mom telling me I’ve got her legs, I’ve got nothing to call my own.”
“Lucky for you, you’ve got me and Auntie. Now let’s go. And Cat? No need to mention the ghost deal, especially since it turned out to be a hoax.”
“You can count on me.” I should tell her. Really, I should. But Liam was my ghost now. Plus, there was that little niggle of doubt that I may have lost it and was living happily in la-la land.
I gave a small wave. He lifted the remote in response. I hustled Marcy out before she saw it floating in the air. Shoot! I’d forgotten to ask him about his twin. I’d have to rectify that when I got back home.
Neatly trimmed shrubbery divided the manse and our cottage. A small break, cleverly cut out and maintained by the gardener, allowed passage between the two properties. A light, warm breeze carried the lemony scent of purple rhododendrons and pink azaleas that dotted the landscape. An orange butterfly landed on a pink flower, fluttered its wings for a moment before it flew away.
The sun mellowed the red brick of the two-story manse. Large white pillars gave timelessness to the home my cousin’s family had lived in for five generations.
Our heels clicked as we walked across the wooden veranda. Before Marcy could open the door, it swung wide. Lulu stood in the entryway wearing a short black dress with a starched white apron and little white cap on her head. “Come on in, girls.”
“Lulu, why do you insist on wearing that maid uniform?” Marcy asked. They’d had this conversation every Sunday for the past five years.
“Because your parents get a kick out of it.” Lulu said the words as I mouthed them.
“Whatever.” Marcy made a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Go on. Everyone’s in the dining room,” Lulu said as she shut the door behind us.
“Are
