Free Double Dating with the Dead by Karen Kelley Page A

glared at his closed door when she went by.
    If she didn’t have to be in his company, she’d ignore him for the next two weeks, but she wouldn’t put it past him to see Dixie or Wesley and not say a word. Nope, he wouldn’t want her to know he’d actually seen ghosts. Hell, he wouldn’t know a ghost if…if one pinched him on the ass.
    â€œSee what’s happening,” she said in case the ghosts were listening. Reaching behind her back, she undid the ties to her top and slipped it off. “He thinks I’m a lunatic.” She tossed her top. It landed on the bed.
    â€œBut a nicely put together one, if I do say so myself.” The smell of worn leather filled the room.
    She grabbed a T-shirt and quickly covered herself. “Do you mind?”
    Wesley materialized on her bed—stretched out, legs crossed at the ankles and a piece of straw sticking out of the side of his mouth.
    â€œDon’t mind a bit, ma’am.” His gaze lazily drifted over her. “Not one little bit.”
    â€œWell, I do. Go away.” She hated a smart-ass ghost more than anything.
    He patted the side of the bed. “Why don’t you join me, darlin’. I’ve sorely missed the company of a female.”
    â€œAnd what the hell am I?” There was a burst of red as Dixie appeared. “Burnt biscuits?”
    â€œSince you brought it up…ever read the Bible verse, ‘ashes to ashes’?”
    â€œNot funny, cowboy.” Dixie glared at him.
    â€œI’m changing clothes!” What did she have to do to get a break around here?
    They both vanished at the same time.
    â€œFinally,” she muttered. She tossed her shirt on the bed once again, then grabbed a bra from the dresser she’d cabbaged and cleaned out.
    Maybe now she wouldn’t offend Trent. What she should do was run up and down the stairs, boobs bouncing all over the place. Maybe he’d be so shocked that he would leave.
    She plopped down on the side of the bed. Then maybe she’d get some sleep. She’d wanted him to think she’d slept like a baby last night. Funny what a little bit of makeup could do.
    Her shoulders slumped, and she yawned. God, she felt like warmed-over death. No, not death, not ghosts, not right now. She just had to make it through the day. Then she could sleep. As tired as she was, she doubted if she’d have any dreams tonight.
    She stood once more, running her fingers under the bra straps to adjust the fit and pulled on a red baggy shirt that reached almost mid-thigh and a pair of leggings, then slipped her feet into a pair of tennis shoes. There, she was all covered up. She wouldn’t tempt a sailor in for leave after being at sea for a year. There was no way Trent would think she was trying to seduce him now.
    She trotted downstairs. Trent didn’t look up, but continued to scribble in a black notebook. What was he writing? Not that she was going to ask. She wasn’t that curious.
    He looked up, clicking his pen. He’d shaved. She’d kind of liked his Miami Vice look. Not that she’d ever let him know. She’d only said what she had to get a rise out of him. And it worked. When she was good, she was so good.
    Slowly his gaze moved over her like a gentle caress, testing each curve. She sucked in a deep breath. Her body tingled, coming to life under his sexually charged perusal. Just as slowly he raised his eyes until they met hers. It was all she could do to stop herself from shifting from one foot to the other.
    Instead, she planted her hands on her hips and gave him a look meant to make the coffee he’d drunk earlier give him an ulcer. “Do I meet with your approval?”
    â€œMuch better. Wearing a bra will keep you from sagging in a few years, too.”
    Sagging? Sagging! Why…why… She exhaled.
    Damn, she was playing right into his hand. How stupid could she get? He wanted her to get mad so she would leave;