The Ghost of Christmas Never Read online

  Jake watched me kick it off, too. “I did.”

  “They believed you?” I next slipped out of my svelte leather jacket, inspecting it for water damage as I went to the closet to hang it up. Miraculously I’d avoided any. I credited my black nylon puff jacket for that and hung it up, too.

  “Didn’t want to hear what he had to say.” He didn’t seem bothered by that fact. “They were still angry with him for doing it and probably doubted my abilities. I keep hoping they’ll see my show and realize I’m for real.”

  “Is there a ghost in this hotel?”

  “Supposed to be.” Following suit, Jake stood and shed his jacket, too. It definitely had water damage, though I didn’t think all of it was recent. I saw he’d worn a brown Henley underneath it.

  I brushed past him, headed back to my chair. “In this room?”

  “Supposed to be. Do you believe in ghosts, Libby Mason?” He joined me at the table and sat in the other chair, drumming his fingers.

  That close up, his dark chocolate eyes knocked me sideways. “N-no.”

  “Thought not.”

  Another answer I didn’t know how to take. Over the next half hour, we talked about my bakery and his television show. His job sounded way more interesting, big surprise, and the format intrigued me—a one-man ghost hunt with him doing all the filming himself.

  At some point, I realized that I was very comfortable with Jake, almost as if we’d been friends for years. That seemed odd after our rocky start, but maybe the rockiness was only on my part. I really was drawn to him, and he’d been nothing but polite since we’d learned about each other, even when refusing to help me derail the wedding train.

  I glanced at my watch and saw it was after eleven. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  He nodded, picked up the remote again, and started channel surfing.

  I got my PJs as well as my toiletry bag from my suitcase and headed to the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth and removed my make-up while the shower water got hot. I heard the door to our room opening and closing, but didn’t check to see why. Instead, I hopped under the spray, leaving my hair up until I finished so it wouldn’t get wet. Once I had on my pajamas, I loosened the knot at the back of my head and shook out my natural curls by bending way over and tousling them. Though I wished for a robe, I didn’t have one. That didn’t matter of course. I was covered from neck to ankles.

  I found Jake lying on top of a sleeping bag on the floor to the left of the bed and in front of the side table. His eyes widened slightly when he saw me, probably because of my choice in sleepwear—PJs with penguins all over them. Intercepting my look of curiosity, he explained the faded sleeping bag. “I’ve had this since I was sixteen. It goes wherever I do just in case.”

  He’d changed into plaid flannel sleep pants and wore a white cotton undershirt that revealed muscled arms. He had one hand behind his head, but no pillow. I moved to the bed, where I got two of the four that were there and tossed them to him.

  He threw one back and tucked the other under his head. “Thanks. Ready for lights out?”

  “Whenever you are.”

  Jake turned off the television. Crawling underneath the fluffy comforter, I settled in and switched off the bedside lamp. A tiny red dot across the room caught my eye. I switched on the light again and saw that Jake had set up a video camera on the dresser—a video camera aimed my way. I peeked over the side of the mattress and found him looking up at me. “What’s that?” I pointed.

  “What does it look like?”

  “A camera.”

  “Good call.”

  “And why is it focused on me?”

  “It’s focused on the bed because the ghost that haunts this room supposedly likes to snuggle with whoever is sleeping in it.”

  No wonder he didn’t want to flip for the thing. I glared at him. “Are you kidding me?”

  Jake gave me his best what’d-I-do shrug. “What are you pissed about? You don’t even believe in them.”

  So I didn’t. Fuming anyway, I turned off the lamp again. “Good luck filming your ghost of Christmas never.”

  He just laughed.

  I didn’t worry about spirits for very long. In fact, I didn’t worry about spirits at all since I was not a believer. Instead, I lay in silence, thinking about the huge apology I owed my sister. She was all the family I had, after all. And like an overprotective parent, I needed to let her get on with her life. The thing was…in all the time I’d cared for her, I’d never once considered what would happen to me when my work was done.

  I thought of the angel at the check-in counter earlier that evening. I’d wanted a husband and a dozen babies at one time. But fate had dealt a different hand. Mia had become the focus of my maternal instinct as I’d baked and decorated, helped with homework, and anxiously waited for her to come home from dates with boys who didn’t deserve her. For years, I’d shelved my personal life without regret, and what did I have to show for it? A well-adjusted sister who was everything I’d ever wanted her to be: happy.

  Great job, Libby. Now you can get a life.

  As if I knew how.

  Suddenly the other side of the bed dipped slightly. Jake, I assumed. Trying to scare me. Just as I looked over my shoulder to tell him off, the comforter rustled, rose, and settled in a new shape. My entire backside went freezing cold as nothing I could see snuggled up to me. Screaming bloody murder, I threw back the covers and leapt from the bed. My feet landed on Jake, who yelped in surprise as I quick-stepped over him and crashed into the table.

  “What the hell?”

  “There’s something in that bed.” I turned on the lamp and frantically pointed.

  Jake worked his legs out of the sleeping bag so he could get up. Of course there was nothing in or even on the bed, and in the bright light of normalcy, I doubted that there ever had been.

  Now I pointed at him. “This is your fault. All that talk about ghosts…”

  “You had a nightmare?”

  “No. I never even got to sleep.”

  “Really?” He went to his camera and messed with it for a several moments. “Holy shit.”

  I joined him at the dresser and peered at the screen as he rewound what he’d just filmed and reviewed it again. I saw myself in bed. On the other side of it a white mist appeared and began to take the form of a middle-aged man in a sleep shirt that Ebenezer Scrooge might’ve slept in—ruffled neck, shirttail hem, long sleeves. Before my eyes, he sat on the bed. I watched him lift the covers and crawl under them so he could cuddle up to me.

  Ew!

  Outraged, I whirled on Jake, who clearly struggled not to laugh.

  He quickly composed himself. “I did warn you.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him.

  “And you can’t really blame the guy. You’re a beautiful woman alone in a bed.”

  Huh? Deliberately not going there, I snatched the camera to throw it at him. He grabbed my wrist and gently took it from me. “Easy now. That cost me three grand.”

  I yanked myself free. “You set me up.”

  “I didn’t think he’d show with me in here.”

  “But you turned on your camera just in case.” I bit my knuckle in horror. “Oh God. Please don’t tell me that’s why you offered those people my room. If this was all just an elaborate ruse to get me in here…”

  “While you’d definitely be worth the effort, I’m really not that clever.”

  For some reason I believed him. I sat on the foot of the bed. Jake put down the camera and sat too close to me. I’d never been more aware of a guy. In fact, my heart rate actually kicked up a notch, and it had nothing to do with lecherous spirits.

  “I asked for this particular room so I could tape myself sleeping as a sort of control to another shoot next year. I’m scheduled to return in February—a Valentine’s Day event—and I plan to bring one of my sisters along to sleep in this bed. I honestly didn’t think about using the camera until you came out of the bathroom
with your hair in a mess—” He as good as screeched to a halt, but a little too late.

  Suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

  “Anyway, I apologize.”

  I swallowed hard, now dumbstruck on a number of levels. “So what do we do? I’ll never be able to rest after this.”

  He thought for a moment. “I guess I could put my sleeping bag on the bed instead of the floor.”

  I gave that two whole seconds’ consideration. “Should be okay. I mean it’s not like we’re hot for each other…”

  Oh God. Was I actually hoping he’d correct me? And what if he did?

  “Exactly.”

  So he wasn’t hot for me. Definitely disappointed, I gave myself a mental slap. Mia’s nuptials had clearly resurrected some old dreams and left me vulnerable tonight. Keeping everything in perspective was now a must.

  We set up our new arrangement with me under the covers and him not only on top of them, but safely zipped into his antique sleeping bag. I switched off the lamp. Silence reined for about ten minutes, during which I rehashed my earlier insecurities about moving on with my life. I still got nowhere fast, so to get some answers, I turned to the only male available. “Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

  Jake snorted. “Don’t you own a mirror?”

  Another minute or two of quiet slowly passed while I dissected his answer. “You like my hair down?”

  “A lot, actually. It’s very sexy.”

  I reached out and flicked on the table lamp. Turning toward him, I propped my elbow on the mattress and my head on my hand. Jake, clearly curious, turned on his side to face me.

  “Here’s the deal,” I said, plucking at the comforter. “Now that Mia doesn’t need me anymore, I have to start living my own life. Since I want it all—husband, babies, house in the ‘burbs—I’m going to have to put myself out there. Speaking for your gender, what are my chances of snagging a man at my age?”

  “Which is?”

  “Thirty.”

  “I predict you’ll bring some poor guy to his knees on the very first date.”

  “Some poor guy?”

  “My bad. Some lucky guy.”

  “Hmph!”

  “No, I mean it.” Jake reached out and lifted a strand of hair out of my eyes. “Any guy who gets a date with you is very lucky.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re not only beautiful, but self-assured, successful, and smart.”

  I covered my eyes and groaned. “I don’t want to do this.”

  “You asked a question; I tried to answer it.”

  “Not that this.”

  “Now you’ve lost me.”

  I looked him in the eye. “I don’t want to date a bunch of strange men just to find one man I can tolerate. I’m so out of practice it’ll take me forever to get comfortable with anyone. What if I get so desperate I settle? I mean, I’ve got the whole biological clock thing going and can honestly see that happening.”

  Jake laughed at me. “There’s always the internet. Love matches dot com.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Or… You could practice on a man who isn’t strange at all. And before you ask… I mean me.”

  “You don’t think hunting ghosts is strange?”

  “I don’t, no. And you know I didn’t mean that kind of strange. So what do you say? I live in Little Rock, too. I’d be handy.”

  “Hm. What, exactly, are you up for?”

  “Practice phone calls, practice dinners out, practice dinners in, practice hello hugs and goodnight kisses, even practice sex. I’m definitely your man.”

  Now I laughed at him. “You wish.”

  He suddenly got very serious. “I do, actually.”

  Had not seen that coming. “B-but what about your career? Aren’t you on the road twenty-four-seven?”

  “Did I mention I have a day job?”

  “You know you didn’t.”

  “I’m a photographer. I specialize in weddings, but I’m great with anyone, and my schedule is very flexible.”

  “You should give me some of your business cards. I have brides in the bakery all the time.”

  “And you should give me some of yours. We’ll be a team.”

  I smiled, liking the sound of that.

  “Does that smile mean what I think it does?”

  “I think it does.” I echoed his words with a laugh. “Shall we shake on it?”

  “A kiss would better seal the deal and be practice for our future practice.”

  Hm. Did I dare? It had been so long…

  Going with impulse for the first time in a long time, I leaned toward Jake, who met me halfway. We landed a little off target. He sort of sipped my bottom lip; I opened my mouth as we readjusted our aims. Suddenly what should’ve been a single chaste kiss became a dozen unforgettable ones.

  “Mmm.” Did that sigh come from me?

  “Mm-hm.” That was definitely Jake.

  So much for not having the hots for each other. By the time I flopped back on my side of the bed, I was so wildly in lust with him that I could barely breathe, much less speak.

  Luckily Jake did the honors. “Damn, Libby.”

  “I’ve been saving up.”

  “Lucky me.”

  I looked at him, still unsure about what felt like a mutual attraction, but desperately wanting to believe. “Really?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  Deep breaths. I so wanted to pounce on him, but I had to be smart. That was, after all, the Libby way to handle things. “Jake?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You should probably sleep on the floor.”

  “Right.” He sat up to unzip the sleeping bag, but the zipper got stuck.

  I sat up, too, and with my legs crossed campfire style watched him struggle to free it. “What about Ebenezer?”

  Still yanking on the zipper, Jake spared me a glance. “Who?”

  “The ghost.”

  “Ah.” He spoke to the room. “Lay one hand on my woman and I’ll send you to your maker. You know I can do it.”

  His woman? My heart turned a cartwheel in my chest, as good as annihilating my dwindling resolve, though I still made a halfhearted attempt to save it. “You know I’m feeling a little desperate right now, don’t you?”

  Jake abandoned his task to give me his full attention. “With good reason. Speaking from experience, lifestyle changes are the scariest.”

  “So you’ve been in my position?”

  “Sort of. The first time was when I quit my lucrative accountant’s job to open my photography studio. The second was when I decided to utilize my psychic abilities instead of hide them.”

  I slowly nodded. “Did you dive right in or plan things out?”

  “Dove right in.” He went to work on the bag again. “I tend to over think things if I don’t.”

  Did I over think things? I knew I did. “And what’s so bad about that?”

  “You invariably make decisions based on the worst instead of the best that could happen.”

  Truer words had never been spoken. “Er, Jake?”

  “Yes?” He suddenly freed the zipper and tossed the flap back.

  I saw a faded Superman on the worn flannel lining—lots of them, in fact—and for some crazy reason that decided me. “Is there room in that thing for two?”

  Jake’s startled gaze clashed with mine. “Not even close.”

  “Perfect. May I join you?”

  His jubilant grin was all the answer I needed.

  About the Author

  Linda Varner Palmer is an award-winning author with more than thirty books to her credit ranging in genre from paranormal YA romance to Silhouette category romance. She had contributed to three anthologies and has also written short stories, novel bytes, and novellas. Linda is a member of the Paranormal Romance Guild and the Electronic Publishing Internet Coalition (EPIC). In 2011, she won EPIC’s ebook award in the Young Adult category.

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