Ghost Lovers Read online

  He’s no stranger! she realized. Somewhere, somehow, sometime in my past I’ve kissed him before. I’ve loved him in another time, another place the same wicked, wild way he’s loving me back now!

  Studying his face illuminated only by the soft moonlight streaming through the window, she could have sworn she saw his eyes glowing green like emeralds flashing in the dark. His lips found hers once more…she simply couldn’t get enough of his sweet kisses that became more passionate, more tempting, more urgent.

  “I love you,” he said again, his hands sliding down to cup her buttocks and pull her even closer against him.

  “It’s you!” she declared. “The sound mixer…the drunken sound mixer I saw at the wedding reception earlier!”

  “Shh!” he urged, his hands exploring her inner thighs now and moving upward to play with the zipper on her dress. “Quit talking and kiss me. Better yet, let me make love to you.”

  “Here?” She giggled, feeling heady with desire.

  “Yes. Here.”

  In the shady, damp, cool wine cellar that smelled like grapes, wine and musky wood, she helped him remove his shirt that he tossed onto the cold, hard brick floor. In return he peeled off her yellow eyelet dress and let it drop before he knelt and removed her tan strappy leather shoes. He lowered her gently to the floor and as he towered over her, he stripped off his pants. He wasn’t the usual conservative type of guy that she dated or married in the past. This was a more independent, sensuous male that could not be tamed, one that would answer only the call of the wind and never be tied to a normal nine-to-five job. He was opposite of Ian in every way. Thank God!

  This sweet man respects me…adores me…loves me…even in the dim moonlight, I see it in his eyes, she thought as his fingers peeled off the rest of her clothes, her lace panties, her bra until she stretched breathtakingly nude beneath him.

  She quickly grew addicted to his delicious taste, his bracing male scent, his invading fingers…everything about this man stirred her to the very core of her being. “I think we’ve loved somewhere before,” she whispered, spreading hot kisses over his neck and clinging to his almost perfect male body.

  “Perhaps,” he agreed, “but not the way I’m going to love you right now.”

  His tongue curled teasingly around her nipple, which went rigid like a small pearl. The erotic sensations he aroused in her made her blood run wildly as she pleaded boldly, “Take me…take me to places where I’ve never been.” She felt his firm maleness against her flat stomach as he lowered himself over her and conquered her, branding her as his in this universe and the next. His…what a wonderful thing to be, she thought dreamily. She was his woman; he was her man. Nothing could ever come between them. Finally as they rode the uncontrollable waves of ecstasy together, she felt happy, truly rapturous while also at peace as he loved her in all the ways that she always wanted to feel loved and desired.

  Basking in love’s afterglow, she snuggled closer to him and then felt something prick her back. Her fingers wrapped around the chilly object as she found the flashlight that she lost and searched for earlier. Before he knew she held it, before he had a chance to protest lest she break the mood, she wanted to turn it on. She had the sudden desire to gaze deeply into his face and take a better look at the sexy sound mixer that proved himself to be the best lover she ever had. He was her true love—a love for all time—she felt certain of it. Now she wanted to see his face and lose herself more in his luscious green gaze.

  “No, Tara, no!” his hoarse voice begged when the LED light blinded his eyes so he couldn’t see her anymore.

  What was happening? Where did he go?

  Why can’t I see him—feel him—anymore? she worried before she cried desperately, “Come back! I don’t even know your name! Please! Don’t leave me!”

  She beamed the flashlight all over the wine cellar, but he was nowhere to be found. Yet she barely heard his fading voice say, “The life is in the blood.”

  “I don’t understand! Come back!” she pleaded to her love that vanished like a ghost.

  The band continued to play music—the universal language—upstairs. They started a 1970s song…the song that provided the theme for her senior prom, the one she never attended. Still, she remembered the celestial theme and grey paper star decorations covered with glitter since she helped make them after volunteering to be on the prom committee. Afterward Rick apologized to her and claimed he was ill that night, not near a phone so he could’ve called her. Hurt, she never believed his story, especially since she’d seen him flirting with another girl earlier that same day.

  In the eerie moon glow splashing against the glass, she aimed her flashlight at something crumpled on the floor. It was her lover’s shirt! If it was there, then maybe he was still here, too!

  Lovingly, tenderly she reached down to pick up the shirt and held its soft cottony material against her cheek. It reeked from alcohol almost like she felt drunk from their earlier lovemaking. Her finger felt a wet spot on the cloth. Using the flashlight to further inspect the shirt, she gasped in shock. It was Rick’s old short-sleeved, light blue, blood-stained shirt from years ago! Or was it from all that long ago? The blood spot was fresh…wet…current.

  “The past, the present and the future are all happening at once.” This was the thought that consumed her mind as she slipped her dress back over her head, found her shoes and clutched the blood-stained shirt in one hand while she held the flashlight in her other hand. Shaken and confused, she started toward the top of the stairs.

  A tremendous sadness overtook her as she felt the emptiness of being separated from the only man she ever loved. She wanted to believe he was real, but now he seemed like only a long, lost dream. Rick? Could it have been him? No. Rick died over a year ago with diabetes after his addiction to alcohol lowered his blood glucose. But why did she still hold his old, blood-stained shirt? Or was it her foolish imagination that deceived her and perhaps it wasn’t his shirt at all, but someone else’s shirt? Was it someone else’s blood on it, too?

  Gone. Either way her lover was gone. A part of her felt dead after knowing the joy of feeling more alive than she’d ever experienced in her life during their brief time together. Whatever occurred during their romantic interlude in the wine cellar, she worried how she’d ever live if she never saw him again. As she climbed up out of the cellar, she opened the door reluctantly. Crisp night breezes hit her in the face. How could she feel so sad, so lost while at the same time she was in her element, at her right destination where she felt so good, so complete all at the same time?

  Sighing, she allowed her memories to zero back in on the wondrous lovemaking that she knew without a doubt had to have been real. It was genuine…no force on earth could convince her that it was anything but real…a rock solid force in her life.

  “That’s my girl. Think positive thoughts,” a hoarse male voice advised her.

  He’s back!

  Before her stood the handsome, shirtless sound mixer, wearing only brown leather boat shoes along with his tight-fitting jeans that revealed a flat, sun-tanned stomach that led up to his broad chest and shiny gold chain around his neck. Staring curiously at him, she touched the wet bloodstain on the blue shirt she still held as his lips curled into a seductive smile.

  “Rick?” she whispered, wondering might it be Rick, reincarnated as…?

  “My name is Daniel,” he told her, adding, “at least it’s Daniel in this lifetime.” He winked knowingly at her and inquired, “May I have my shirt back, please? I’m starting to feel chilly.”

  She grinned and handed the shirt to him before he slipped it over his head. Smoothing a few wrinkles in it as her hand glided over his chest, she felt his heart beat steadily beneath her palm.

  “You won’t be chilly long,” she promised. “Not anymore, not since I discovered the secret to timeless love. The life is in the blood.” She lowered her lips to kiss the damp stain on his shirt. “I intend to keep your blood warm forever…until the end o
f time.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” he said, but added, “or at least I would have before except I’m giving up drinking. I wish to control my own fate, not have a bottle of booze control it for me. The only addictions I want in my life in the future are my career and you.”

  “That’s music to my ears,” she murmured to the sound mixer as he planted first a soft, gentle kiss and then a deeper, sensual one on her slightly-parted mouth that invited him to stay at her side forever.

  A GHOST’S PROMISE

  The stakes were high on a hot, summer’s night long ago when Kevin and I were young teenagers, madly in love, tempted by moonlight and raging desires. Breathless with excitement, I reclined on my mattress in my sunny yellow bedroom. My parents slept across the hall as Kevin pressed his nose against my window screen while a warm draft carrying the sweet scent of honeysuckle pervaded my room.

  “Unscrew your window screen, remove it and come outside,” Kev coaxed. “C’mon! Let’s go!”

  “My parents will kill me if I get caught!”

  His wispy brown hair, the determination in his oblong, sun-tanned face, the invitation on his partly curled lips tempted me as he puckered his mouth for a kiss. I pressed my mouth against the screen and only slightly felt his lips, but I wanted more…wanted to break through the screen, but fear prevented me. He was so close, yet so far...dare I step outside and join him?

  “You won’t get caught! Just do it.”

  Just do it. I knew he meant “let’s make love.” All I had to do was unscrew the window, crawl outside to another world, slip away with him beneath the twinkling silver stars and be his first lover as he claimed he so eagerly longed to be mine. I wanted nothing more, but I admitted in a low voice, “I can’t risk it!”

  “Oh, shit! Aren’t you coming?” The hurt in his voice was something I knew I’d never forget. His greenish-brown eyes flashed angrily, painfully, like fire in the night. From the outside of my window screen those beautiful, wide eyes, filled with desire, challenged me.

  “My parents trust me. I want to, but I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Both.”

  “Don’t you think I risked my own ass, sneaking out of my family’s house and walking all the way up here, through the woods, across the fields into your yard?”

  “Sorry!”

  “You’re sorry? You’re freakin’ sorry? That’s all you’ve got to say?” He turned and stomped across the gravel driveway that crunched beneath his steps. His usual confident strut was missing. Defeatedly he marched away and jumped over the fencerow that divided my family’s acre from the adjoining fields and woods.

  “I love you, Kev!”

  Did he even hear my desperate midnight confession? I doubted it, watching him walk away as he never cast me a backward glance. The night was alive with loud chirping and croaking sounds that vibrated in tune with my young, restless heart.

  Nothing is over, I assured myself. I’ll see him again. He really loves me; I know he does! He’s angry now, but he’ll wait for me. We’ll get together the right way…go through all the “normal” motions…nothing is over…our romance is only beginning…

  “He’s gone. How can someone disappear without a trace?” The words felt bitter on my tongue as I confided to my mother that I’d scoured the Internet, asked every mutual friend and no one knew for years what became of Kev. In my hot, cluttered small office I switched off my computer and stared blankly at the darkened computer monitor. Kev’s absence from my life for years felt like light in my soul dimmed with each passing day when we no longer saw one another.

  “I know you loved him,” Mom pointed out, “but something never felt right. Call it a mother’s instinct, but I never picked up that you’d ever share a normal romance, let alone a normal marriage, with Kevin. Just the way he’s gone now and you don’t know where he is or what happened proves my point.”

  The door clicked softly behind her as she left me alone to ponder over my lost love. I never thought he’d leave without saying goodbye. Still, I vowed, This is not the end!

  Somehow, someway I’d find him and finish the love we started. If it took me all my life, I would do it!

  “Oh, my God! Kev’s dead!”

  Staring broken-heartedly at the “In Loving Memory” page at Kevin’s sister’s online blog, I felt numb. A few emails later, I learned from her that he died from “self-inflicted, alcohol-induced, generalized organ failure.” He gave up on wanting to live, his sister, Jeanine, wrote. Too much physical pain from pancreatitis, diabetes, cirrhosis and more. Even worse, Kev’s emotional pain had been too much to bear. Jeanine filled me in on everything I missed in his life since I last saw him.

  None of what caused his trauma should have happened! His addiction to alcohol. The ugly fight with his father, who fired him. Kev had come to work late, staggering into the architectural firm that his dad worked hard to build, the same one that the father refused to allow his irresponsible son to destroy. Father and son—once best friends—never spoke again after Kev, humiliated and feeling like a failure, couldn’t bear to face his dad ever again, despite his father’s continual efforts to reconcile with him. Kev’s biggest flaw had always been his pride. He’d always been too darn proud for his own good!

  “I always believed that someday Kev and I would find each other and get back together,” I confided to Mom, who stared pitifully at me from where she stood regally in the doorway of my warm ivory great room that boasted a huge gray stone fireplace at one end.

  She sighed, brushing back white-blonde hair from her heart-shaped face as she advised, “Don’t let a love from the past destroy one in the present. You’re married, for God’s sake, for 23 years. Let go of Kevin.”

  Let go of Kevin. Her words echoed through my mind, but left no impact. How could I ever let go of Kev? His memory lived inside me, but oddly, now those treasured memories flared up as intensely as ever.

  “I’d almost forgotten the exact shade of his eyes over the years,” I told her, “but now it’s all coming back to me, especially those gorgeous hazel eyes that lit up like emeralds whenever his emotions blazed. A part of me has died just knowing I’ll never gaze into those sexy eyes again.”

  Harry, my husband with classic tall, dark and handsome good looks and from a conservative family background, had just fallen asleep after making sweet love to me. I turned over and nearly screamed as I saw Kev’s green-brown eyes glittering close-by me in my mostly dark bedroom. His apparition turned from faded soft colors gradually into vivid shades as he stood at the side of my bed. Smiling, he studied my nude, slender body and long auburn hair that spilled over my shoulders, barely touching my firm breasts the same way his gaze watched me with great interest and admiration many years ago. There was no mistaking his ghost. Except for being solid, he looked the same as before—short-legged, but broad-shouldered and trim at the waist. His brown hair parted on one side fell in curly waves that he never learned how to control, but I loved to bury my face in his clean-smelling hair that he always cursed because it was something he couldn’t tame.

  “Kev?” I mouthed the words, being careful not to awaken Harry. I could imagine how berserk my spouse would become if he opened his eyes and saw my old boyfriend’s spirit hovering by my bed.

  The same delicious, often mint-flavored lips I used to love to kiss when I was young curled into a tight, seductive smile. Kev stretched out his hand to me, but I hesitated. Did he only mean to touch me or did he invite me to join him on the other side, wherever he existed now? I still had work to finish on earth, people here that loved me, dreams to fulfill, like perfecting my interior design business and paying off my house. Yet I couldn’t refuse Kev again, especially after rejecting him when I wanted to go outside with him the last time I saw him when he was a teenager, the time he coaxed me to crawl out my bedroom window and become one with him.

  I didn’t audibly hear his voice, but I read his lips as they urged, “C’mon!” Was this my last opportunity to
ever go with Kev? I rose slightly and started to accept his hand, but just then Harry rolled over and muttered, “Belle? Are you still awake? I love you, honey.”

  As Harry’s hard, firm form nestled closer to my warm, soft body, Kev scowled, his eyes flickering with resentment and jealousy as he looked accusingly at me. I understood Kev hated the fact that I was married. I hated myself, too, at that moment because my cheating heart yearned to go somewhere, anywhere, to be alone and spend more time with Kev.

  Abruptly, my first love’s ghost vanished as quickly as it had materialized. I’d hurt him. Why did I always end up breaking Kev’s heart when from the first moment I met him in elementary school, I always loved him and wanted to be with him?

  A ghost in the house…near the marriage bed…could not be a healthy thing. Maybe my mother was right: Let go of Kevin. I had to try or risk ruining my marriage.

  “Who the hell is this man that says he’s here to see you?” Harry’s voice jolted me as I sat at my cherry dressing table and applied a final dab of rosy blush to my cheeks. “He says his name is Kevin.”

  Oh, my God! Can ghosts talk? I wondered, starting to panic. Suddenly I relaxed and remembered, “He’s the new sales rep from Wood Work Creations. We’re going over my latest portfolio today.”

  “At 8 a.m.? So much for having breakfast alone with my lovely wife.” Harry leaned forward and kissed the top of my nose. Already he was dressed in his three-piece gray suit and blue-gray striped tie over his gray dress shirt as he prepared to depart for the bank where he worked as branch president.

  “See you for dinner. Pork chops,” I promised.

  He winked flirtatiously and left the room as his musky men’s cologne trailed behind him. Or was it his own scent? It wasn’t! It smelled more like Kev’s young skin that I used to nuzzle against and shower with kisses so much that I never forgot how good my first love smelled…like the fresh outdoors on pine-scented, starry summer nights.