onto the stage. The lights were out. Drakedidn’t need them for what he was doing, making sure his instrument was in fine working order, a necessity after the way he’d treated his baby tonight. She could still feel that mournful wail raising goose bumps all over her skin.
His head was down when she reached him, bent forward as he fondled the instrument. She could smell him. The smoke and the sweat, the bite of gin. The shiver that hit her took a whole lot of effort to suppress. She leaned down, blew against the shell of his ear, let her lips linger there at the base of his skull for no more than the length of a breath.
He straightened slowly and turned, and then gave her the smoky smile she’d wanted to feel forever. And she swore her heart forgot how to beat when he said, “Sweet Sugar Babin. Kissin’ on me like that. What in the world would your husband say?”
5
J ACK GROWLED , and it wasn’t a very nice sound. It was the sound of his impatience, his frustration, his inability to be polite and still tell her to take off her clothes.
The kiss that had started out as a simple connection no longer was. It was about complications and how far they were going to go.
He made his first effort at finding out by bunching the material of her skirt into his fist at her hip. But she was wearing a hell of a lot of fabric and his hand was only so big. He wasn’t getting anywhere and hated to stop.
Perry put him out of his misery with a sound that was half chuckle and half sigh before wiggling against him until he dropped her skirt. When he started to remind her that he had come around to her way of thinking after all, she pressed a finger to his lips and shushed him.
“This is the best part.”
Or so he’d been on his way to find out before her skirt got in the way. She turned around then, tucked her head underneath his chin and snuggled her back to his front. And because it seemed like what he was meantto do, he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her.
It was seconds later when he was settling in to test the waters, when his focus along with his blood had begun the slow return trip to his head, when he realized exactly how perfectly her body fit his that he heard it. The singing. The low smoky voice lamenting love gone wrong.
That was her reason for bringing him here. It wasn’t about showing him the shop at night or wanting to jump his bones. A trick, that’s what it was. Another lame attempt to convince him the stairwell was haunted. To get him to…come around to her way of thinking.
Hell on freakin’ wheels. A part of him raged at the deception. She could have brought him out here and told him to listen without the hot and heavy act. Thing was, he would swear on the closest voodoo priest that she hadn’t been acting.
But then all his pondering over the ins and outs came to a screeching halt. Because he wasn’t just hearing the ghost. He was seeing her.
He and Perry stood behind the counter, five feet from the corner where the frame around the stairwell’s entrance no longer held a door. The outside wall between the first floor and the landing shared the exterior’s brick.
And that was where Jack saw the light.
Not a direct source like a lamp or a flashlight or even a flickering candle flame. This was a wisp. And it floated. Floated and swirled over what he swore was a woman’s figure in a long, formfitting dress.
He stepped from behind Perry, but she grabbed hiselbow and stopped him from moving closer. He frowned, but he didn’t argue. He was too busy arguing with himself.
He could not believe, did not believe, that he was seeing what he was seeing. It had to be the same trick of the light from earlier, the one that had turned the shop into Munchkin Land. He wasn’t buying that he was seeing a ghost. No flippin’ way.
“I’ve only seen her three or four times in my life,” Perry whispered. “Della’s seen her more, but then she’s lived here longer than I did. This was the
His head was down when she reached him, bent forward as he fondled the instrument. She could smell him. The smoke and the sweat, the bite of gin. The shiver that hit her took a whole lot of effort to suppress. She leaned down, blew against the shell of his ear, let her lips linger there at the base of his skull for no more than the length of a breath.
He straightened slowly and turned, and then gave her the smoky smile she’d wanted to feel forever. And she swore her heart forgot how to beat when he said, “Sweet Sugar Babin. Kissin’ on me like that. What in the world would your husband say?”
5
J ACK GROWLED , and it wasn’t a very nice sound. It was the sound of his impatience, his frustration, his inability to be polite and still tell her to take off her clothes.
The kiss that had started out as a simple connection no longer was. It was about complications and how far they were going to go.
He made his first effort at finding out by bunching the material of her skirt into his fist at her hip. But she was wearing a hell of a lot of fabric and his hand was only so big. He wasn’t getting anywhere and hated to stop.
Perry put him out of his misery with a sound that was half chuckle and half sigh before wiggling against him until he dropped her skirt. When he started to remind her that he had come around to her way of thinking after all, she pressed a finger to his lips and shushed him.
“This is the best part.”
Or so he’d been on his way to find out before her skirt got in the way. She turned around then, tucked her head underneath his chin and snuggled her back to his front. And because it seemed like what he was meantto do, he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her.
It was seconds later when he was settling in to test the waters, when his focus along with his blood had begun the slow return trip to his head, when he realized exactly how perfectly her body fit his that he heard it. The singing. The low smoky voice lamenting love gone wrong.
That was her reason for bringing him here. It wasn’t about showing him the shop at night or wanting to jump his bones. A trick, that’s what it was. Another lame attempt to convince him the stairwell was haunted. To get him to…come around to her way of thinking.
Hell on freakin’ wheels. A part of him raged at the deception. She could have brought him out here and told him to listen without the hot and heavy act. Thing was, he would swear on the closest voodoo priest that she hadn’t been acting.
But then all his pondering over the ins and outs came to a screeching halt. Because he wasn’t just hearing the ghost. He was seeing her.
He and Perry stood behind the counter, five feet from the corner where the frame around the stairwell’s entrance no longer held a door. The outside wall between the first floor and the landing shared the exterior’s brick.
And that was where Jack saw the light.
Not a direct source like a lamp or a flashlight or even a flickering candle flame. This was a wisp. And it floated. Floated and swirled over what he swore was a woman’s figure in a long, formfitting dress.
He stepped from behind Perry, but she grabbed hiselbow and stopped him from moving closer. He frowned, but he didn’t argue. He was too busy arguing with himself.
He could not believe, did not believe, that he was seeing what he was seeing. It had to be the same trick of the light from earlier, the one that had turned the shop into Munchkin Land. He wasn’t buying that he was seeing a ghost. No flippin’ way.
“I’ve only seen her three or four times in my life,” Perry whispered. “Della’s seen her more, but then she’s lived here longer than I did. This was the
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