Falling for the Ghost of You (7 page)

Am I really doing this?

I am.

I've been by the house once before, when Mom gave me a quick tour.

Bill's new house (our house, too)
is a sprawling mansion with a private drive, and a stone fountain in the courtyard.  I think it looks like a Mediterranean villa, with the red tiled rooftops and the big gleaming windows.   Inside is just as gorgeous.  I love the vaulted ceilings and the elegant curving staircase.  Also, the house has seven bedrooms and eight bathrooms! 

I can't even picture me and Mom living there.  What would we do with all that space?

But those are
happy
thoughts for another day.

I pull around back to where the pool house is located, next to the Olympic sized pool, of course.

Slowly, I get out of my car, more and more unsure about my plan.  Should I bring a suitcase to look more pathetic?  No, that's dumb.  If he says no, I'll feel ridiculous.  Maybe I should just go.

No, I can't.  I don't have anywhere
to
go.  If he says no, I'm screwed.

The pool house is a cute little
home
matching the style of the main house.  It looks smaller than I remember, and I just pray it has more than one room.

The lights are on.  He's home.  Taking a deep breath, I knock briskly on the door.  And I wait.

Wow, he's taking a really long time to answer.  I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and prepare to knock again.

The door opens and
,
I just barely stop myself from rapping my fist on his chest.

His bare chest.

Oh. My. God.

Shirtless Zane is a revelation.  He is all smooth honey colored skin and sleek muscles.  His shoulders are broad and dense, and his chest and
ab
muscles are so clearly defined, they could have been carved from granite.

My eyes continue their journey down
to
his slim waist, and...oh, my.  The top button of his jeans is undone.

For some reason, that undone button strikes me as the sexiest thing ever.  Pure lust explodes in my body at the sight of it.

So
hot!

"Violet."

Zane's raspy voice snaps me out of my sex-crazed coma.  He runs a hand through his tousled, seriously cute, just-woke-up hair.  "What are you doing here?"

"Um."  I clear my throat nervously.  "I kind of need a place to stay."

In a rush of words, I explain my situation.  He listens silently, his expression neutral, leaning an arm against the door jamb.  I am totally distracted by his bulging biceps.

"I promise I'll stay out of your way," I conclude. "You won't even know I'm here.

A slow smile tugs the corner
s of his mouth upwards.  "Somehow I doubt that."

He opens t
he door wider, and I take that as an invitation
to carefully slip past him.  Um,
yum
, he smells like warm sexy male, just out of bed.

I glance around at my new surroundings.  It's a little bigger than the old apartment, with a simple floor plan.  The rectangle-shaped living room is sparsely decorated, with an L-shaped couch and a recliner angled toward a huge impressive-looking
flat screen
TV.  I note with amusement that the entertainment center holds what appears to be every kind of gaming machine known to man.  There's not much else: a glass coffee table in front of the couch, a couple of floor lamps, and a fancy bookcase crammed full of leather bound classics.

The small open kitchen is to the left
,
and I'm g
lad to find it neat and clean—n
o dirty dishes piled in the sink, or empty pizza boxes on the counter.

There's a short hallway directly across from the
front
door which I assume leads to the bedrooms and bathrooms.

I'm about to go check it out when a tall stunningly beautiful girl suddenly appears from an open room.

My eyes widen in shock and dismay. Ms. Supermodel is wearing an itsy bitsy thong and nothing else.

Without a hint of self consciousness, she sashays up to Zane, tossing back her long glossy hair.  "Zane," she says in a husky accented voice.  "Come back to bed."

He smiles down at her as she wounds her slender arms around his neck.  "Natassia, we have company."

"Natassia" gives me a lazy once-over with dark exotic eyes.  "Who is this?  She come to party with us?"

What?  Ew!

Zane sees my horrified reaction and smirks.  "No.  This is my step sister.  Why don't you get dressed?"

Supermodel pouts prettily.  She stretches up to whisper something in his ear, making him
chuckle sexily.  He puts a hand on her hip and murmurs something back.

What the hell?   I'm standing there awkwardly, trying to look everywhere but at them.  Why am I the only one embarrassed here?  They're the half-naked ones!

Natassia mutters something in another language, then stalks back to the room, hips swaying seductively.  Zane's eyes seem glued to her butt.

"I'll be right back," he says to me, then follows her into the room, shutting the door behind him.

I'm rooted to the spot, waiting.  Should I leave?  They better not be having sex in there.

It feels like hours have passed when they both finally reappear.  Natassia, to my relief, has on clothes.  She's wearing a thin gray dress, killer black boots, and a smug smile.  Zane's thrown on a long-sleeved shirt, left unbuttoned.  They both lo
ok romantic and sexy, like the cover
of a racy spy novel.

As she is leaving, Ms. Supermodel throws a smirking look in my direction.  My polite smile slides off my face.  She says something to Zane in her language (
Russian
, maybe?), over her shoulder.  He just laughs and shakes his head.

Once she's gone, I turn to him.  "What did she say?  Was it something about me?"

Zane shuts the door and regards me through half-lidded eyes.  "You don't want to know."

I grimace and shift awkwardly.  "Is she your girlfriend?"

"I don't have a girlfriend.  Got any bags?"

"Um, yes, in the car."

He holds up a hand.  "Give me your keys, and I'll get them for you.  Make yourself at home in the meantime."

I fumble in my pocket for my keys, and toss it to him.  "Thank you."

"No problem.  Be right back."

Zane goes out the door, and I immediately start exploring.  The kitchen has a sliding glass door
that opens right to the pool.  N
ice. 

I head over to the hallway.  The first room is small, and contains a queen sized bed, chest of drawers, and a antique looking vanity.  The window shows a view of the main house.  I smile in relief.  This will be perfectly fine for a month.  Okay, let's check out the bathroom.

It's right next door and looks completely unused, which is great.  It has a toilet, a sink, and...

No shower.

I look around wildly.  Where's the shower?  Oh, this isn't good.

I p
eek my head in the other room—Z
ane's room.  My eyes skim over the huge bed, dresser, desk,
bookcase...and there's another door.  The master bath.

I hear the front door and run back out.  Zane has all my bags, carrying them like they weigh nothing.

"Why doesn't my bathroom have a shower?" I demand, as if it's his fault.

"Because it doesn't.  The master bath has one," he says.  He moves past me into my bedroom.

I follow and watch him dump my bags on the bed.  When I continue to stare at him, he raises an eyebrow.  "Is there a problem?"

"Well, yeah!"  I throw my hands in the air.  "This isn't going to work!  I
need
to shower."

"Shower in my bathroom," he says with a shrug.

I stare at him, appalled.  "I can't just walk into your room!"

"Yeah, you'd knock first, I hope.  It's no big deal, Violet."

Zane walks
back
out and heads toward his room.  He stops in the doorway a
nd gestures me over.  "Come on
."

I stare at him warily.  I wish he would button his shirt.  I would be able to think better.  The open material frames his flawless skin and hard muscles.  I seriousl
y feel like a perv right now—I
can't stop peeking at his chest.

Meanwhile, Zane is waiting.  He crosses his impressive arms over his impressive chest.  "Don't be scared, little girl," he taunts.  "I don't bite."

Ugh!  "
I
do," I growl, and push past him.

"I'll have to remember that."  He laughs.

Did he take that to mean something dirty?  I don't see how, but you can never tell with guys.

Oh, never mind.  I'm standing in Zane's room
with him!  It smells like him:  a
fresh clean scent and some kind of masculine
body wash—a
nd lingering above that, the exotic scent of a girl's perfume.  I
can't stop staring at his bed, w
here he probably just had sex with that Natassia girl.  I blush bright red at the thought.  I don't want to picture Zane having sex.  Um,
ew
...right?  Not hot at all.

Nope.

"I'm hardly ever home," his voice says from behind me.  "I'm sure we can work out a schedule.  Bathroom's right there."

“Okay.”

Cautiously, I check out the bathroom.  It’s really nice, and big.  Double sinks, a glass enclosed shower, and—ooh! 

“A jetted bathtub!  I’ve always wanted to try one of those!” I exclaim, bending over for a closer inspection.  “Are the jets adjustable?”

“I believe they are.”

Why does he sound so amused?  I whip around and study him suspiciously.  He smiles back innocently.

“My back muscles get stiff sometimes,” I say, just to clarify.  “Having something hot and hard aimed at me would definitely help me loosen up.”

Zane only grins wider.  “No doubt.”

Oh, god, what did I just say?!

“That’s not what—I meant the jets, not you!” I quickly backtrack.  “Not that you would ever aim something hot and hard at me!  I mean—what I was talking about was the
jets
, not your…
not anything on you, that’s for sure!
”

I’m taking deep gasping breaths right now.  Stop talking, Violet!  Shut up!  I collapse against the edge of the tub, seriously appalled at myself, and shaking with humiliation. 

“Violet.”

Zane crouches down in front of me, and pats my knee.  “It’s okay,” he says sympathetically.  “I know what you meant.”

I glare at him.  “I wasn’t trying to sound like a perv!  It’s your fault, answering the door shirtless, and then the naked girl with the…and then you and her—right in front of me!  Well, no wonder dirty thoughts are in my head.”

“I’m…sorry?”

“Thank you.”  I stand up abruptly.  “Okay, well, I’m going to…go.  I’ve got school tomorrow, and it’s…”  I check my phone.  “It’s eight o’ clock.  Way past my bedtime.  So…thanks for letting me stay.  Bye, now.”

I wouldn’t say I walked, so much as ran out of there. 

Yeah, no, that went great.  I'm gonna go smother myself with a pillow now.

******

Chapter 8

"Beef and broccoli," Lauren announces, lifting the lid off the pan on the stove.  The entire kitchen is fill
ed with the savory aroma of beef
and gravy.  She takes a spoon from the drawer, scoops up some of the broth, and hands it to me. 

I blow on it a little
to
cool it down, then I take a cautious bite.  "It's good!" I declare.

I'm eating dinner at Lauren's tonight.  We're babysitting the twins and baby Brianna while her mom works a double shift at the hospital. 

I love Brianna.  She is the cutest little thing, with her blonde curls and wide gray eyes.  She's so sweet and easygoing, too.  She's teething right now, but only makes soft whimpering noises on my shoulder.  It's so cute.  I can tell by the way she's breathing that she's about to pass out for the night.

"Rice still isn't done," Lauren announces, checking the pot.  "Should be a few more minutes."

"Okay," I say.  "I'm going to put Brianna down.  She's out."

"Oh, can you tell the twins it's time to wash up for dinner?"

I groan quietly.  "Do I have to?  I s
till haven't recovered from the time
I caught them
French
kissing their Aiden Cross posters."

Lauren laughs, even as she's making a face.  "They were more embarrassed than you were."