...Derek’s humor-filled gaze rained down on her. Beneath his bushy mustache, his full, sensual lips twisted into a smirk. “Imagine my pleasant surprise to come upon such a lovely young woman—a damsel who collapses at my feet.”

“Will you ever let me live that down?” asked Clarice, her face on fire with renewed chagrin.

“I can promise nothing, especially since your rosy cheeks are so appealing to these jaded eyes.”

His flattery, coupled with his close proximity, played havoc with Clarice’s self-control. It took all of her strength to curb the impulse to rip off his T-shirt with her teeth and smother his sinewy torso with moist, hungry kisses, to stop her hands from tearing off his blue jeans to get at that tantalizing mound behind his zipper. Never before had she felt so utterly horny regarding a virtual stranger. Then again, after living with Esau’s spirit all these weeks, his descendent somehow didn’t seem such a stranger after all.

“Sorry,” said Derek. “Just teasing. After seeing that photograph, I can understand why you thought you might be confronting a ghost.”

“A ghost…yes…” Clarice spun from him and headed for the cellaret. She needed a drink to both calm her rattled nerves and gain additional courage. “Care for something?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine with me."”

She poured each of them two fingers of peach brandy, then indicated they sit on the sofa. When Derek drew a sip from his snifter, Clarice watched his Adam’s apple bob and longed to capture it with her mouth. The tuft of dark chest hair peeking out from the collar of his T-shirt made her fingers tingle with lust.

He set aside his drink, then turned to her. “So, Miss Nash—”

“Clarice, please.”

“Fine. Now what exactly is this all about, Clarice?”

She loved the sound of her name on his sonorous voice, a voice similar in timbre to the ghost’s. More quivers of yearning traveled through her, shooting down the length of her spine. Forcefully shoving aside her libertine notions, she drained her snifter in one fell swoop, then waited for the warmth to reach her limbs before responding. “As I said on the phone, it’s all so very complicated. And like I also cautioned, you might think I’m mad—”

“I promised I wouldn’t. And I’m a man of my word. So please tell me about this ‘nightly haunting’ you mentioned.”

For a moment, she looked at him. Solemn sincerity and eagerness had replaced the teasing humor in his eyes, which prodded her to continue. “It’s an upstairs bedroom. Things have been happening there and—”

“Esau’s bedroom, right?”

“How did you know?”

He reached into the box and withdrew a leather-bound journal. “Since your phone call, I’ve done a little reading of my own...”

Love Romances' 2003
Golden Rose Readers Choice Awards
Best Novella Nominee!