Ghost of a Chance - SHILOH WALKER

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Paranormal erotic romance

More than a hundred and fifty years ago, two lovers lost each other through an act of violence so horrific, none would dare speak of it.

The time is coming, though, when all touched by that night will have to revisit it.

Lucas has been waiting…waiting for Katie to come back to him, to get past her fear of what happened on that night. Now she’s here, reborn into the body of another woman. He saw her and knew it was her. Soon he would have her back in his arms, holding her sweet warm body against him in the cold of the night.

But before they can be together, as they always should have been, there is an evil that must be faced and destroyed.

Otherwise, they don’t have a ghost of a chance.

“Hello.”

She swallowed a shriek as she shot to her feet and turned around. CJ was incredibly jumpy after the past few nights.

Meeting the soft gray eyes just a few feet away, she felt a flush staining her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t hear you.”

“No. You looked kind of preoccupied.”

CJ was preoccupied all right. Staring into those dove gray eyes, she felt as though she were drowning. My, my, my, she thought, her palms just the slightest bit damp.

“I’m Luke,” he said, his voice soft and mellow, a soft Southern drawl that seemed to reach out and stroke her.

She held her hand out hesitantly, taking his as she said, “CJ.”

“What does the Cee Jay stand for?” he asked, still holding her hand.

“Chelsea Jane.” His hand was warm, calloused, and strong. In a blink, she was imagining lying back on the warm grass and feeling those hands stroke over her.

He was still holding her hand as a smile broke out, creases appearing in his cheeks. “I like that. Chelsea. Do you live around here, too? I haven’t seen you before.”

“I live in the old Royal Oaks house,” she said, goose bumps forming on her flesh as he stroked her wrist with his thumb.

“Are you the new owner?” he asked, golden brows rising. He had hair the color of summer wheat, golden blond, shot through with streaks of near white. And those eyes…

Jerking her wandering mind back, CJ said, “Sort of. My father left the house to me after he died a few years ago. I decided recently to come down here.”

“Down here?” he asked, squeezing her hand once more before releasing it. “I knew it. You’re a Yank.”

Laughing, she tucked her tingling hand into her pocket. “I’m only from across the river. Just a little bit of Yank. And actually, I grew up in Louisville.”

“Hmm. I guess that’s not too bad,” Luke said, smiling at her. His mouth, a sculpted thing of near perfection, curved up at one corner and he stated, “You are a very lovely woman, Chelsea Jane.”

Her cheeks flushed and her heart started dancing in her chest as she stuttered out a thank you.

“What is it you’re reading?” he asked, grinning mischievously at her obvious embarrassment.

“Just some old journals I found up in the attic,” she said, glancing down at the book as though she had forgotten she held it.

“Ah. Your father’s?” Luke asked, studying her closely, keeping an easy smile on his face, though nothing inside him felt easy as he studied her. He had been watching, and waiting, for a long time.

It was her.

So very different.

But her.

CJ laughed. When she did, it had her golden brown eyes sparkling. Her skin had a naturally dusky hue to it, and Luke wondered idly if the flesh of her torso was the same sun –kissed tone. Dragging his eyes back up, he had to smile in return as CJ said, “My father keeping journals? Not in this life time. You usually keep a journal to write down your innermost thoughts and feelings. And my father had no thoughts or feelings that didn’t pertain to his studies.”

“Sounds like a rather sad man,” Luke noted, wondering what such a father had been like for this girl.

“Yeah. I guess he was.” Her mouth pursed thoughtfully as she studied the journal she held. “Actually, the journals all belong to a girl who lived more than a hundred years ago. My father would probably have me beaten simply for touching them.”

“Things were meant to be enjoyed, not locked in a museum,” Luke said, eyeing the journal with interest. “I imagine your father probably felt otherwise.”

“Yes.” CJ’s head came up and she looked him square in the eye. “Would you like to come up and see the house?”

Yes…

That, he wanted more than anything. But the walls were still there. He could feel them, in his soul, in a way Luke really couldn’t describe. It just wasn’t time yet. It would be though, and soon. And that evil, foul soul that lingered to this day wouldn’t be able to keep him out.

A slow, sweet smile came to his face and he shook his head. “I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’ve got some things to get done.” Holding his hand out, he said, “I enjoyed meeting you, Chelsea Jane.” More than you can possibly know…

Moments later, he disappeared down a path that led into the trees, glancing back only once, meeting her eyes. The look in her eyes had heat racing down his spine, striking him square in the groin. Interest, very female interest.

Luke wanted to meet up with Chelsea Jane again, and soon.

Very, very soon.

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