Free Haunted by Kelley Armstrong Page B

“You said I didn’t sound very good, and suggested I come by the hotel room so you could play nurse for me. Which you did. Most effectively. Ordered me into bed…and, by the time you were done, I couldn’t have got out of it if I wanted to.” A slow grin. “Of course, neither could you.”
    Thank God for ghost-hood sometimes. No need to worry about pounding hearts or sweaty palms or heavy breathing. All I had to do was keep my gaze down, and he wouldn’t know how badly I wanted to say “To hell with it” and cross that last quarter-inch between us.
    His lips moved closer to my ear. “I remember every second of that afternoon, Eve. I’ve replayed it so many times…in bed, in the shower, even in the car, once during a traffic jam—I was sitting there and I saw a billboard for the hotel we’d stayed in and next thing you know…” A deep chuckle. “I found a way to make the delay a whole lot more bearable.”
    I backpedaled so fast I fell right through the wall. Kristof grabbed my arm to steady me, but I moved out of his way.
    I righted myself and glowered at him. “God, you are—”
    A quick grin. “Incorrigible?”
    “Oh, that wasn’t the word I had in mind.”
    “I like incorrigible. Much better than desperate. Or horny. Or desperately horny.”
    “Arghh!” With a blink, I changed back into my jeans. “There, better?”

    He took my hand and pressed it to his crotch. “Nope, no change. Have I ever mentioned how great your ass looks in those—”
    “If you do, you’re going to find yourself on the wrong end of a shock-bolt spell.”
    “Hmmm.”
    “Don’t even try it.”
    “Not going to. I’m just wondering whether I should risk unzipping or just let you continue like this.”
    “Like what?” I followed his gaze down to see my hand still pressed against his crotch. “Damn you!”
    “I take it that’s a no on the unzipping?”
    I bit back a retort and settled for striding across the room, giving my brain time to find its way out of the lust-fog. “I need a real nurse’s uniform.”
    “No, you’re going to be the patient.”
    “But you said—”
    “I said I needed to put you in a nurse’s uniform. I didn’t say it was part of the plan.”
    I rolled my eyes and fought the urge to laugh. “Okay, tell me what you have in mind.”
    I was going to play patient—a more thorough disguise, since two of the haunters had already seen me. Stained, baggy sweats, my hair snarled and oily, eyes red and sunken—the look of someone for whom personal hygiene has been a low priority for a while. After I finished the glamour, Kristof conjured a wheelchair for me, and we headed back to the haunters.

 

    8
    “ YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN BART’S FACE.” THE YOUNG woman who’d been taunting Barton to violence had returned to the other haunters. “Franco couldn’t write her report fast enough. She was on the phone to Peterson before Chang even came to collect ol’ Bart.”
    Kristof wheeled me into the room, and silence fell as every eye turned our way. Outfitted in a generic orderly’s uniform, he grumbled under his breath about the nurses being too busy to help settle me in. He steered carefully, making sure not to run through anything that should be solid. He left me in the middle of the room, and grabbed the folded bedding from the foot of the bed. With a quick conjure, he duplicated it into a ghost-world set, then began unfolding the top sheet. I sat motionless, chin on my chest, gaze downcast.
    “Well, looky-looky,” chortled Ted, my headless accountant.
    I lifted my head and scanned the room. I frowned over at Kristof.
    “We got audio,” the teenage girl said. “But I think the video’s on the fritz.”
    “Damn,” the other woman said.
    “I prefer the listeners,” Ted said as he sauntered toward me. “Much more unsettling, isn’t it, honey? You can hear us, but you can’t see a damned thing.”
    “Who—who’s there?” I said.
    Ted leaned down to my ear. “I’m right here.