Chaste Kiss (20 page)

Mick nodded. “Nice to meet you."

William inclined his head silently.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mick?” She succeeded in pulling his attention away from William, but not for long, she feared.

"I just thought I'd drop by and see how you were doing.” He gave her one of his rare smiles.

"Oh, well, I'm fine. A little wet, but fine.” She giggled nervously and cleared her throat.

Picking up the broom, William moved to the other side of the office and swiped the cobwebs from the ceiling.

Mick cut his eyes at him as he spoke. “I was wondering if you thought anymore about what I asked you the other day at the library."

"You mean about going out with you?"

He nodded with a soft smile.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she snatched a quick glance at William. He seemed to be attacking the cobwebs with a little more gusto than necessary. Obviously, he wasn't too thrilled with Mick's presence. Perhaps the detective could help her win her little war.

"I'd be happy to have dinner with you."

"Great. I'll pick you up at seven."

"I'll be ready,” she said with a lilt to her voice and a bright smile.

Mick trotted down the stairs whistling a happy tune. She instantly sensed William's scrutiny and cast him a casual glance before retrieving the sponge he'd tossed at her earlier. Believing she'd thrown him off balance just a little bit, she started humming the same tune as Mick's.

William cleared his throat as he lifted the bucket. “I am glad you accepted Detective Wise's offer."

His words caught her completely off guard. This was not the reaction she hoped for, but she had to see it through.

"So am I.” She snatched the bucket from his hands and headed downstairs. William wasn't far behind.

"What did the detective want?” Constance asked, as she stepped off the bottom stair.

"He asked me out to dinner."

"Oh?” She glanced at William as he made his way across the room with a broom in his hands. “I saw how he caught you on the stairs. Gave me such a scare. Nice of him to ask you out, but I thought you weren't interested in him."

"I changed my mind. I think he's very nice. Handsome, too."

The two women exchanged knowing glances.

Constance grinned and gave her a wink. “Oh, well. I suppose he is at that."

Isabel smiled then turned to look at William's broad back. The way his shirt pulled tightly across his shoulders as he swiped at cobwebs on the ceiling positively made her mouth water. His dark ponytail dangled between his shoulder blades as he twisted and turned to reach the corners. How she longed to feel his hair brush against her skin as his lips made their way down the length of her body.

She groaned at the moist heat building between her thighs. Those kinds of thoughts were not conducive to cleaning. Needing to get her mind back on track and off the one thing she couldn't have, she refilled the bucket with fresh water and climbed the stairs, sloshing water as she went.

Standing around daydreaming about William wouldn't get the store clean, and even if he touched her while invisible, if it wasn't unpleasant as he insisted it would be, she didn't think it was possible to take it as far as her body wanted it to go. That would require a living, breathing man. Something William believed he would never be, but she still had her doubts. There just had to be a way to break the curse.

She went over it and over it as she attacked the dirt on the floor. By the time she finished and had moved to the stairs, a heavy gloom settled over her.

If they did break the curse, who was to say it wouldn't simply make him move on to the next level. After all, he was dead. The natural, or the most popular theory, claimed he would go to heaven. Letting him pick up his life where it was so brutally cut short didn't sound realistic. But it was all so unfair. Why would he be left to roam around without any hope for another chance?

Constance appeared at the foot of the steps, interrupting her thoughts. “Sweetie, I've been washing down the walls and I don't think you really need to paint."

"Wonderful. That's one less thing to do."

After dumping her last bucket of dirty water, Isabel stretched and surveyed the store. It was really beginning to take shape. Between the three of them the floors, walls, and windows where spotless.

The bell of the cash register drew her attention. William lifted his eyes from his work, and their gazes locked. She felt a warmth surround her as he smiled.

He was very intuitive, her ghost. Somehow, he'd known she wanted to use the old cash register. He'd spent a good deal of time making sure it worked properly and was polished to perfection. He seemed to understand her better than anyone, and then at times he simply didn't have a clue. Or did he?

The more she thought about it, the more she realized he was nobody's fool. He knew every step, every strategy she concocted in an attempt to win their battle of wills.

She smiled back at him. He may think he knows what she's up to, but he doesn't know his own mind. Why else would he attack cobwebs as though they were denizens of evil and utter a bunch of nonsense about being glad she was going out with Mick? He was hiding his true feelings. Wasn't he?

"I don't know about you two, but I'm starving,” Constance said.

Isabel brushed her hands on her jeans and headed for the bathroom. “I'll get cleaned up and go get us a couple of sandwiches."

Looking into the mirror, she made sure her shirt no longer exposed anything, then shoved a few stray strands of hair back behind her ears.

"Right. Your handsome ghost is afraid someone's going to come along and take you away from him,” she said to her reflection.

It was a wonder Mick asked her out at all. Not only was her hair a mess, she had smudges of dirt on her face, and her scar seemed to be more prevalent than usual from the exertion of scrubbing. When flushed it turned a deeper shade of red.

"Well, maties. Its time to pillage the town for grub.” Okay, so she didn't do the greatest pirate impersonation, but it cheered her up a little.

With a grin, she washed the smudges from her face, fixed her hair as best she could, and headed for the front door. As she pulled the handle, William appeared instantly by her side.

"I will accompany you,” he said.

"You don't need to do that. I'll be fine."

"I insist."

She let out a long breath. As much as she appreciated his concern about her safety, she feared for his even more.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she made sure Constance was out of earshot. “The deli will be crowded this time of day. Someone is likely to brush up against you or bump into you."

"I will take that chance."

"No, you won't. I'll be fine. Nothing's going to happen to me in a crowded deli or on the street. It's only a few doors down anyway. You can watch me from here, if it'll make you feel better, but you are definitely not going with me."

He looked out the window at the people on the street. With an exasperated sigh he nodded. “Very well. I will watch from here, but I still do not like this."

She wanted to pop up onto her toes, wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him to distraction. She always wanted a knight-in-shining armor. Instead of the heated exchange she craved, she blew him a kiss, then strolled out of the shop to the deli down the street, giggling at the surprise on his handsome face.

Ordering a couple of BLT's to go, she waited patiently near the end of the counter. Her thoughts meandered from William's adorably startled expression, to Mick's sexy infrequent smiles, to her up and coming antique shop. So much had happened in the last few weeks it was difficult to take it all in. Something told her the roller coaster ride had only just begun.

"Here ya’ go,” the girl behind the counter said.

"Thanks.” She grabbed a few napkins then headed back down to her shop.

My shop
.

Her heart fluttered with excitement. Once they finished cleaning, she could bring in the merchandise, a good portion of which sat in her uncle's garage. She liked the idea of having a lot of inventory on opening day. She also needed to check in with Debi. Her grandmother's health had improved, and Isabel needed to confirm when her friend would be able to go to work. Then there were general office supplies she needed to buy, a few freestanding shelves, a filing cabinet, a drafting table, adding machine, the list went on and on. Not to mention she needed to link up with several suppliers.

Tons of stuff to do, she thought happily. But as she stepped up to her door with its newly polished doorknob, she froze. At her feet lay a single red rose.

Her heart dropped like a rock. Holding her breath, she guardedly looked up and down the street. Spying a florist not two doors down, she wondered if somehow a flower head had broken off during a delivery.

Yes. That was a rational, logical explanation. She hadn't felt as though she were being watched at anytime during the day. It had to be a coincidence. Slowly, she bent down and picked up the bud. With carefully measured steps she crossed the sidewalk to the garbage can and dropped the blossom inside. She looked up and down the street one last time.

No, there was no one watching her, no prickly feeling at the back of her neck, no invisible eyes cataloging her every move. With a steadying breath, she turned and went inside.

Placing the sandwiches on the newly cleaned counter, she unwrapped their lunch. Her hands shook, and she gripped the counter to still them.

"It was only a flower. It was just a coincidence,” she whispered.

"Is something wrong?” William asked, stepping behind the counter.

"No. Everything's fine. I'm just tired.” Avoiding his gaze, she fidgeted with her sandwich, but ate very little.

William studied her closely. Something had upset her, and he didn't understand why she refused to speak of it.

He'd watched her go down the sidewalk and waited for her return. Nothing happened that he could see to have caused such a change in her spirit. However, Constance had called him away from his vigil when Isabel was but a few yards from the shop. Had something happened during that small span of time?

Her moods seemed to shift rather rapidly of late, and it concerned him greatly. His presence in her life was, without a doubt, one of the causes, but he knew there were a great many other things bothering her. Perhaps she had sensed someone watching her again.

William felt a surge of anger toward the man responsible for putting his sweet Isabel through such torment, threatening to take her life. His heart still pounded at the sight of her falling down the stairs, and the helplessness he felt when he failed to catch her.

Had he hesitated before reaching for her? He wasn't sure. If he'd succeeded, he would be no more. Had that thought caused him to fail? The questions haunted him as did the sight of her in another man's arms. But be that as it may, he owed the detective his gratitude. Mick Wise had saved her—and held her. Something William could never do.

Why, in all that was holy, was he continuing this game of living? He was a ghost, a specter. A spirit destined to be alone for all eternity. It was time to leave and let Isabel get on with her life. She had so much ahead of her, so many dreams yet to fulfill. He could no longer stand between her and her future. A future with Mick Wise.

Several hours later, the shop cleaner than it could have ever been before, the group headed for home. William remained silent on the trip as the two women chatted incessantly about what Isabel should wear on her date with the detective. It was enough to drive a man insane, but he managed to keep his tongue. She had at least regained her cheery disposition. Another reason he should be grateful to Detective Wise. She obviously looked forward to their outing with great anticipation.

Once they unloaded all the cleaning supplies, Isabel hurried off to her room to bathe and prepare for her date. On his way to his room, William speculated on what they would do together. He already knew they were going to have a late dinner, but then what? He searched his memory for what he had seen on television about courting. When the images came to mind with startling clarity, he nearly punched a hole through his bedroom door.

"Surely she would not allow him to touch her in that way on their first outing?"

Frantically pacing the floor, he tried to regain control of his temper. Not once, in his miserable existence, had he ever been jealous, and yet here he stood, seething with envy. Deciding it would be in his best interest to work on his research rather than spend his time brooding in his room, he headed for the library. At least the minutes he spent pacing the floors in private gave the illusion he'd bathed and changed. All of which took only a moments’ thought. A clean pair of jeans, a fresh shirt of deep burgundy, and his hair hanging loose without its leather tie. He also made it appear as though it was still damp from his bath.

He settled himself in a chair with one of the many texts in his lap and began reading. Not long after, he heard Isabel's heels clicking across the tiled hallway floor then into the library.

"Hi,” she said.

He lifted his head and responded in kind, trying his best not to take notice of how beautiful she looked. Her hair was pulled back from her face and intricately braided. The thin black straps of her dress crossed her delicate shoulders, holding up a clinging piece of material that stopped far short of her knees. He knew if he could smell her, all of his senses would be filled with the essence that was Isabel.

"Well, how do I look?” Isabel knew how she felt. Perturbed. William hadn't reacted to her little black dress in the least. He almost looked bored.

"Very nice.” He dropped his gaze back to the text.

She wanted to snatch that stupid book from his hands, flop down in his lap, and plant a big wet kiss on those oh so inviting lips. That would certainly get his attention, but it was something she couldn't do—ever.

Convincing herself his inattentiveness was another act, she milled casually around the room. If anything, the thought helped pacify her ego. She despised playing games with him, but couldn't think of any other way to win him over. If he didn't begin to show some seriously jealous behavior soon, she'd have to give up the ghost.