Provoking the Spirit Page 4

  The ghost turned away so only her profile was visible, and Ainsley wondered what secrets she kept. “Then what?”

  “I tried to reclaim his affections by drinking a potion from Madame Laveau. She swore it would just make me ill enough to scare him if I mixed a few drops in with my wine. I mixed more than that, determined to have a more dramatic effect. I ended up cursing my afterlife. Now I am imprisoned by this purgatory.”

  “You accidentally poisoned yourself?”

  “It’s a mortal sin to kill yourself, but because it wasn’t intentional, I was spared the fires of hell. I live in my own personal hell now, knowing I broke my Emil’s heart by my rashness.”

  “So you realize that you’re dead?” The first step to moving on.

  “I saw the sorrow in his eyes when he found my body. I watched him grieve over my death, never knowing I was right next to him. And then he left this house.”

  “If he left, then why are you still here?”

  A snarl marred her face. “Because I am sentenced to this plane of existence, permanently separated from the man I loved.” Her features softened. “Then he returned. Or at least, the one who calls himself Remy came here, and I began to hope...”

  “You think Remy is Emil?”

  “I did until last night.”

  Ainsley shook her head. Was all this the after effects of the drugs they gave her last night? No, this started way before then. This started when she got the hair-brained idea that Remy was attracted to her and that she should use it to provoke the spirit into coming out of hiding. Now she was having a conversion with that same spirit as if they were college roommates.

  “You shouldn’t make the same mistakes I did.”

  “Don’t worry—I won’t be drinking any of Marie Laveau’s potions anytime soon.”

  The ghost approached her. “I meant, don’t let love slip away from you.”

  Bitter laughter choked her throat. “This is Remy we’re talking about. The man whose little black book is the size of the yellow pages. I don’t think he’ll ever be happy with one woman for any extended period of time.”

  “You doubt his feelings for you?”

  She opened her mouth to say yes, but her tongue couldn’t form the word. Why would Remy have gone through so much trouble taking her to the ER and tucking her into his bed if he was planning on brushing her off in the morning? It would have made more sense for him to take her back to her place and leave her there. And then there were all the things he said to her last night; could she really believe them? “I don’t know,” she finally replied.

  The ghost began to fade. “Then you are a fool.”

  The words lingered after the she had vanished, rolling around Ainsley’s mind like a quarter in the dryer. They nagged at her while she drove across Lake Pontchartrain to her home. And they refused to go away as she played the DVDs and tried to focus on the footage.

  Chapter Six

  The scent of satsumas tickled Remy’s nose when he awoke, and he reached for Ainsley. His fingers brushed against the rumpled sheets where she had slept, not her body. He sat up in bed. Where did she go?

  “Ains?” No one answered.

  He looked around the disaster area that was his room. The splintered drawers and all their contents covered the floor, but the video camera was missing. He hopped out of the bed and ran downstairs. “Ainsley?”

  But the downstairs echoed the same silence. If he hadn't seen the shattered glass in the parlor, he would have told himself he imagined it all. But he had. It had all been real—the ghost, making love to Ainsley, all of it.

  He fell back on the couch and ran his fingers through his hair. This was an interesting twist on things. Usually he was the one sneaking out the door while the other person slept. As his grandmother would say, he’d gotten a taste of his own medicine. He didn’t expect it to be from Ainsley, though. His chest tightened, and he found it difficult to breathe for a moment.

  Dammit, he didn’t even have her phone number. He couldn’t call her and ask why she left without saying goodbye. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to wait another three years before he saw her again. He knew one person that would tell him where he could find her. He found his cell phone and dialed his sister’s number.

  “Hey, Remy,” her cheery voice answered. “How did the ghost hunt go last night?”

  “You mean Ainsley didn’t call you and share all the details?”

  “Nope. She’s not answering her phone. I guess she’s buried herself in reviewing the footage. Hopefully, she caught something good this time.”

  He scanned the wreckage in his house. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “Something happened?” The excitement in Nan’s voice raised it an octave higher. “She got proof of the ghost?”

  “Listen, Nan, I need to ask a favor of you. Ainsley left something here, and I need to get it back to her.” She left me hanging, he added mentally.

  “Let me give you her number.”

  “If she’s not answering her phone, what good will it do me? Can you tell me where she lives?”

  A pause halted the conversation. Times like this made him regret that his sister knew him too well. “Okay, spill it. What happened? Were you a jerk last night?”

  “No—at least, I hope not. I just need to see her and talk to her about something.”

  “If I tell you where she lives, I expect a full briefing afterwards.”

  Remy grabbed his baseball cap and his car keys. He caught a glimpse of a dark shadow disappearing into the kitchen, and a chill rippled across his arms. His ghost? Part of him wanted to investigate, but he didn’t need any more distractions. First, he had to find Ainsley. “I’ll fill you in after I talk to her.”

  Nan laughed. “Remember, girls like flowers.”

  He started the car and activated the Bluetooth. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  “I assumed you upset her.”

  “Quite the opposite, little sis. Now, where do I need to go?”

  “The opposite, huh? Now I’m dying to know what happened.”

  “Nan, directions, please. I’m driving here.” This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with his sister until he settled things with Ainsley first.

  “Fine,” she sighed. “Get on the Causeway.”

  “The Causeway? Where the hell does she live?”

  “Madisonville.”

  He muttered a string of cuss words under this breath as he drove toward the lake. He should have known it wouldn’t be simple getting her back.

  ***

  Ainsley stared at the monitor, watching the light bulbs explode throughout the house once again. Although part of her was thrilled to have this evidence on DVD, the footage before this made her panties damp. She could watch the ecstasy on Remy’s face over and over again. The power she possessed with his cock in her mouth made her want to run out the door and find him so she could do all over again. Then maybe they’d go back upstairs…

  She whacked her fist against her desk, sending shockwaves along her broken arm. Dammit, I need to remember not to do that. But watching the scene in the parlor sparked a hunger within her that she only knew one way to satisfy. Unfortunately, Remy didn’t serve seconds.

  She thumbed through the DVDs on the desk until she found the one labeled, “bedroom”. What if the battery hadn’t died before they got up there? Would it be like watching porn? Only their moans and sighs would be real, and her mind would relieve every second of it until she cried out in frustration.

  Her computer made a chiming noise, notifying her of a new email. She opened her inbox and clicked on the message from Tyrone.

  Ainsley, I was able to dig up some info on the house. A guy named Emil Carver built it in 1854. His wife, Regina, died in 1858, and he sold it a few years afterwards. Attached is a photo of the couple I found in the Historical Society archives. Hope this helps.

  Ainsley moved the mouse so the arrow hovered over the attachment. Did she really want to see th
e faces of the Carvers? She took a deep breath and clicked on the attachment. A few seconds later, she stared at the face of the ghost. Regina Carver. She stood behind a leather chair, her hand lovingly resting on the shoulder of a man who bore a strong resemblance to Remy.

  A strange ache formed in her chest as she looked at the couple and remembered Regina’s story. Was she being as foolish as the ghost said she was?

  Her doorbell rang, jerking her from her reverie. She sat glued to her chair, not wanting any company at the moment. Maybe if she just ignored it, the Mormons or whoever was coming to pay her a visit would go away. The doorbell rang three more times in rapid succession, followed by banging on her door. Who the hell was trying to break into her house?

  She got up from her desk and peeked out her window. From her angle, she could see a man in khaki shorts, a faded t-shirt, and a blue baseball cap. Duke Blue. Her stomach flip-floped. Remy.

  “Open up, Ains. I know you’re in there.” He banged on her door again. “I need to talk to you.”

  How the hell did he figure out where she lived? And what did he have in his hands? Her stomach unknotted itself, and her pulse pounded in her ears. She turned on her cell phone and hit a number on speed dial.

  “Hey, Ainsley,” Nan answered a little too casually. Bingo.

  “Why did you tell your brother where I lived? He’s trying to knock a hole into my front door right now.”

  “Why don’t you open it and find out?”

  “Ains, I’m not leaving until you answer the door and tell me to piss off,” Remy called out below.

  “How ’bout I tell you to piss off,” one of her teenage neighbors replied.

  “Great—now the neighbors are complaining, Nan,” she said as she thudded down the stairs of her townhouse. “You have some explaining to do.”

  Her best friend giggled on the other end. “So do you, it seems. Have fun.” The line clicked and went dead.

  Ainsley growled and tossed the phone on the couch. She had half a mind never to speak Nan again. She paused quickly at the mirror and frowned at her messy hair and lack of make-up. Why should she care what she looked like? This was Remy, after all. But she took a second to pull her hair up into a ponytail before she opened the front door.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, trying her best to sound cross. “You…” Her voice died when she saw the bouquet of orange and pink roses he held in his hand. Her gaze travelled up to his face, and her breath froze. His pupils dilated, leaving only a thin rim of blue around them. “Are those for me?”

  He licked his lips like a man sitting down before a feast. “’Bout time you opened the door.”

  “Remy, I—”

  His mouth silenced her as he closed the gap between them and captured her lips in a heated kiss. Her mind screamed at her to resist him, but his sensual lips teased until she opened her mouth and allowed his tongue inside. Then all willpower fled as desire heated every inch of her flesh. Damn, he could kiss. While his tongue danced around hers, his arms pulled her body against his so she could feel the hard ridge rising in his pants.

  His lips broke free from hers and nibbled on her earlobe. “Maybe we should put the roses in some water and stop creating a peep show for the neighbors.”

  Blood rushed into her cheeks. She opened her eyes. Mrs. Jennings across the street frowned at them while she watered her postage stamp sized lawn. “Yes, maybe we should take this inside.”

  He released her long enough for them to step across the threshold, and then he slammed the door shut by pressing her against it. He didn’t need to speak—his mouth did all the demanding for him. She could almost taste his lust for her when he kissed her again. The roses ended up on the couch next to her cell phone, and both of his hands gripped her ass and lifted her up so his erection rubbed against her sex.

  Her body ached to have him inside her once again, to feel his cock stroking her most intimate areas. She wrapped her arms around his neck, eager to take the kiss deeper, but the sound of fiberglass whacking against a skull ended the pleasantries.

  “What was that for?” Remy asked and rubbed the back of his head.

  Oh, please just let me melt into vapor like the Wicked Witch of the West. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you. I’m still not used to this cast.”

  His grin cut those famous dimples into his cheeks. “I guess we’ll have to learn how to dodge that thing for the next few weeks.”

  “We?”

  He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “You seem to echo that word a lot.”

  “That’s because I find it hard to believe you would use that word.”

  He walked to her couch with a frown on his face and toyed with the roses. He kept his back to her. “What kind of game are you playing, Ains?”

  “Game?”

  His eyes flashed with anger when he turned around. “Yes, game. Why do you have to keep repeating everything I say? Just answer my question.”

  Ainsley leaned against the door and allowed her blood to cool while she thought of an answer. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m not playing any games.”

  His knuckles blanched around the bouquet. “It sure as hell feels like you are. Hot one minute, cold the next. Leaving my house without saying goodbye.” He slung the roses back on the couch. A few stray petals floated to the ground as he stomped to the door. “I knew I made a mistake chasing after you. Step to the side so I can leave with some dignity intact.”

  Panic nearly stole the air from her lungs. She covered the doorknob with her body. “No. Let’s talk about this like adults.”

  “Why? So you can make up some lame excuse that won’t hurt my feelings? The ‘You’re a nice person and all’ crap?” His eyes then widened. “Shit, this sucks.”

  “Strange when you’re on the other end of it, isn’t it?” A lump formed in her throat, preventing her from telling him the truth.

  “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Lesson learned. Now please move.”

  She pressed all of her weight against the door. “I never said I was going to give you some line, did I?”

  “Stop it, Ains. I drove all the way out here to find out why you left and to tell you that I—” His face froze in panic.

  She stroked his cheek with the hand not encased in the cast. “Tell me what?”

  “You’re not making this any easier.”

  “Would you feel better if I told you why I left?” He nodded, and her hand trembled. Could she tell him how she felt about him and not end up with a broken heart? “I left because I had such a wonderful night with you, and I didn’t want any of the morning-after awkwardness, especially since I thought you would tell me it was a mistake.”

  His breath whistled through his teeth when he exhaled. “I never thought it was a mistake. Didn’t you believe me when I told you that you were special to me?”

  She bunched her brows together and stared at her feet. “I just find it hard to believe that you would want me.”

  “Then let me show you.”

  His lips brushed against hers, gentle at first, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses around her mouth. When she tried to kiss him back, his hands gripped her hips, and his kiss deepened until it felt like he was devouring her mouth. If his kiss was any indication of his feelings her, he wanted her. And there was no denying that she needed him. Her knees buckled under her, and she whimpered.

  He caught her and wrapped his arms around her waist. The tip of his nose brushed against hers. They were both left breathless from the kiss. “Any questions?”

  “Do you want to go upstairs?”

  “I won’t have to worry about a jealous ghost up there, will I?”

  She giggled and shook her head. “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Good, because I have every intention of making love to you until we collapse from exhaustion.” He nipped at the hollow of her neck. “And you know I’m a man of my word.”

  Arousal spread through her like a wildfire. When she set out to provoke a spirit
, she never expected to find a man who stirred her very soul. She took his hand and led him up to her bedroom. “Promises, promises,” she teased.

  The hunger on his face reassured her she wouldn’t hear the last of this.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for reading “Provoking the Spirit”. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please leave a review on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Goodreads.

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  --Crista

  Looking for more Sexy Paranormal Romance?

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  Copyright 2011 by Carina Press

  St. Joseph, Missouri