Kiss And Dwell (7 page)

Monique groaned toward the ceiling.
“
Granny, this would have been a great time
to fill out one of those modification forms. Nine days is ridiculous.
”
Her eyes
moved to the center of the paragraph and she repeated,
“
While claimant has
experienced his share (and then some) of physical bonding, he refused to open
his heart to love.
”

His share. So, Ryan was male, and a male who had experienced a surplus of
physical bonding. In other words, he liked sex. Well here was a newsflash for
the powers that be—so did she. And to get this guy out of her life and
conveniently placed on the other side, where he belonged, she had to teach him
that there was more to a relationship than sex?

“
How am I, Monique
Vicknair
, the woman who has been craving an
honest-to-goodness, rock-my-world, curl-my-toes orgasm from something other than
a vibrator for a good six months, supposed to convince this guy that there
’
s
more to life than just sex?
”
she spouted to the empty room.

Only the room wasn
’
t empty anymore.

“
Funny, that
’
s exactly what I was going to ask,
”
a deep, raspy and extremely
Southern voice drawled from behind the settee.

Monique gasped, winced, then slowly—very, very slowly—turned to view the owner
of the sexy voice. Mon
dieu
, he took her breath away. Definitely male. There was
nothing at all feminine about this Ryan.

Nothing. At. All.

As with every other ghost she
’
d ever encountered, his appearance was like any

living individual, except for a faint shimmering glow outlining his features
.

And mercy, what features they were. Dark hair, long on top, short on the sides,
with sideburns that teased a strong
jawline
and accented a wide, smirking smile
that made her stomach quiver. His eyes were jet-black within a forest of equally
black lashes, but then again, all ghosts had black eyes. That was one of the
things Monique never asked the spirits—the color of their eyes—but this time,
she couldn
’
t stop from wondering whether his were green or brown or blue. Blue
.

She imagined a vivid baby-blue iris in the midst of that sea of black lashes.

Monique fought the impulse to ask the color. What was she doing, fantasizing
over this guy
’
s—correction, this ghost
’
s—face? Besides, why would any woman in
her right mind stop at the face, when the body was an equally mesmerizing
tribute to the male gender?

Muscles on his muscles, that would be
Jenee
’
s
description of the biceps bulging
against the sleeves of his white T-shirt, the broad shoulders and sturdy chest
that defined raw power and the chiseled abs, visible in spite of the soft cotton
covering. Add slim hips and muscled thighs encased in blue denim and Monique
could almost come from staring. Nine days looking at this and not having sex?
Since when had Grandma Adeline gotten into torture?

“
I see I
’
m underdressed for the occasion,
”
he said, and that sexy Southern drawl
rolled over her skin like hot cocoa butter. Where was this ghost from, anyway?
Not that she wanted to know. That was personal information, and she didn
’
t get
into learning details about her spirits. But if she knew where he was from,
maybe she could find out if there were any men of the living persuasion still
hanging around town who happened to look like him, sound like him, and affect
her libido like him.

“
Underdressed?
”
she mumbled, her mouth suddenly very dry again.

“
Compared to you.
”
He indicated her red dress, stuck to her body like shrink
wrap due to the rain.
“
I can remedy that,
”
he said, and as Monique watched, his
T-shirt and jeans slowly transformed to a black tuxedo, dashing and debonair and
dangerous.
“
Better?
”
he asked, moving around the settee to casually sit on the
other side, merely a plush pillow away from Monique.

Better? her mind questioned. Better? Heaven help her if she ever saw anything
better than this. How did you top perfection? Monique didn
’
t know, and she sure
wasn
’
t about to answer his question now. She might accidentally drool. If she
’
d
had an orgasm with
Pierre
, maybe she wouldn
’
t be so turned on by this
semi-glowing male specter.

She blinked. Who was she kidding? She
’
d have to be dead not to be turned on
right now. But even dead, she
’
d still find herself panting over Ryan
Chappelle
.

No doubt about it.

“
Then again,
”
he said,
“
Were you dressed this way for my arrival, or was it for
sex? Because from your statement when I entered, that you
’
ve been craving a real
orgasm for six months, I bet that you
’
ve been pretty anxious to have a—
”
His
eyes smoldered, and his voice lowered, easing each word out for emphasis
.

“
—good, slow and easy—
”
His grin broadened.
“
—or hard, hot and heated tangle
beneath the sheets.
”

Monique couldn
’
t speak. If she didn
’
t gather her bearings, she might forget to
breathe. What could she say? Yes to all of the above? How many times, and when
could they start? Monique could feel the fact that he wanted her, and she had no
doubt that he could sense the same lust from her side of the fence. Mon
dieu
,
the bonding rule was meant to help the medium connect with the spirit, to
understand the ghost
’
s needs for crossing, and to fulfill them. But she
’
d never
sensed this type of need before. Pure, powerful desire. And she knew that wasn
’
t
the type of need she was supposed to fulfill. She couldn
’
t touch a spirit, ever
.

That had always seemed a simple rule, until now.

What had she done for Grandma Adeline to do her this way? Giving her perfection
in a beautiful male package—on a night she was horny as all get-out—and knowing
she couldn
’
t touch. Monique wanted to scream. Loudly.

“
Did I mess that up for you tonight, Monique? Did I ruin your chance for an
honest-to-goodness, rock-my-world—
”

She held up her palms.
“
That
’
s enough. I remember the rest.
”
And hearing him say
it out loud certainly wasn
’
t going to help.

He smiled knowingly and placed his arm against the back of the couch so that it
came close, very close, to where her back rested against the red velvet
.

“
Because if I did ruin that for you tonight, I
’
m very sorry, and I promise to
find some way to make it up to you,
”
he continued, those black eyes drinking her
in as though she was a shiny red apple and he was Adam, ready to take a big ol
’
bite.

Monique wanted to tell him that
“
making it up to her
”
wasn
’
t necessary, that she
was fine and could get her orgasm later, courtesy of the batteries that she was
most certainly going to steal from the flashlights, whether the electricity went
out or not. But the only words that wanted to slip from her lips were Come on
.

Take a bite. Please. Thank goodness for her limited self-control. Limited,
because if she sat here by this devilishly handsome ghost for too long, she
’
d
break every rule on that list and probably cause a few addendums for the next
generation.

“
Can I?
”
he asked.
“
Make it up to you?
”
That drawl reminded her of Harry
Connick
, Jr., and Monique so had a thing for Heavenly Harry.
“
I
’
d enjoy a little
taste,
”
he said.

No way. Their connection was happening fast—way too fast and way too damn
strong—as if he
’
d read her thoughts. Had he? His smoldering black eyes said that
if he hadn
’
t, he
’
d at least known she was thinking something.

Monique had to get a grip on this situation, and she needed to get it fast. Move
the conversation away from sex, move her mind away, not that he
’
d actually
propositioned her or anything, but still…that
’
s the way her brain, and most
other parts of her anatomy, heard it, and she needed to get all of her two
thousand parts focused on something else. Quick.

“
How—how did you do that?
”
she asked.

“
Do what?
”
His dark brows lifted with the question, and those intense eyes
amazingly seemed to darken, so much that she couldn
’
t tell where the iris ended
and the pupil began.

“
Change,
”
she said, pointing to the tuxedo that had quickly taken his overall
presentation from Playgirl centerfold to GQ cover in a span of seconds. Monique
was a fan of both, so she really didn
’
t care, but again, she had to get the
conversation off anything sexual.

“
When you
’
ve been living in the middle as long as I have, you learn how to make
the most out of the perks,
”
he explained, looking very out of place, all muscle
and testosterone, claiming dominion over the predominantly pink and extremely
girly sitting room. And over Monique.

Though it took some effort, she thought about his statement and realized part of
it didn
’
t make sense. Unfortunately, before she realized that asking the obvious
question would provide too much insight into this ghost
’
s past, she blurted it
out loud.

“
How long have you been in the middle?
”

“
Fourteen months,
”
he answered automatically.

Fourteen—months? Monique hadn
’
t even realized that was possible, and if he
’
d
been there that long, why hadn
’
t she already received him as an assignment? And
what did a ghost do
“
in the middle
”
for over a year?

“
Months?
”
she questioned, just to make sure she heard him right.

He nodded and gave her a sexy smile.
“
You see, I like it here, Monique. And I
know Adeline expects you to convince me to make the transition, but I have no
intention of crossing over. Ever. So, if you want to talk about something else,
or if you want to do something else,
”
he said, his black eyes glittering,
“
then
I
’
m ready. But if you
’
re wanting me to cross over, it isn
’
t happening.
”

Monique could feel his determination, his flat-out resolve to stay on this side
as long as he damn well pleased. She
’
d never sensed such sheer strength of will
in a spirit, and she
’
d certainly never experienced the waves of barely harnessed
desire, pulsing from his very soul with the intensity of a raging fire. And that
inferno was spreading…to Monique.

What was Adeline
Vicknair
thinking?

If Ryan
had known what was waiting at the end of his summons to meet with the
assigned
Vicknair
medium, he wouldn
’
t have put it off all afternoon. Little did
he know a sassy hot fantasy in red was waiting to guide him to the other side
.