Ghost for Sale. Sandra Cox

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      “He shouldn’t have left you alone. You need to find someone else. He slipped out the door with that Hathaway slut.” She screwed up her nose as if she’d smelled something distasteful.

      “We aren’t an item.”

      Liam stood with his arms crossed, his face unreadable.

      What was he thinking?

      “Why do you keep staring over my shoulder?” Marcy twisted to look behind her before she shifted back toward me.

      “Sorry.”

      “So why did you think someone was in the house?” She set down the bottle and leaned toward me.

      “Must have been all that talk of ghosts.” I bit my lips together to hold back the hysterical giggle lodged in my throat.

      Marcy looked around, then whispered. “Do you think it was the ghost?”

      My nerves jumped. For the life of me, I couldn’t think of anything to say or why I was so hesitant to tell her the truth. She would have believed me. “Who knows,” was all I could manage.

      Liam looked relieved. Then his eyes crossed as Marcy’s breasts lifted when she stretched her arms over her head. She glanced at her watch. “It’s barely nine o’clock. Let’s go to Jimmy’s.”

      I looked at my ghost…er, Marcy’s ghost. Would Liam O’Reilly be able to go? I couldn’t wait to see his reaction to Jimmy’s. “Sure, why not.”

      Marcy did a quick glance at my shorts and tank top. “Better throw on some jeans. The temp has dropped.”

      “Good idea. I’m going to do that now.”

      When I reached the bedroom, I unsnapped my shorts, thought better of it, and spun around. Sure enough, Liam leaned against the wall, his ankles and arms crossed. “Get out! I’m getting ready to change clothes. And don’t go in Marcy’s room either.”

      He grinned and gave me an appreciative once-over before he disappeared through the wall. Not so much as a ripple marred the smooth surface where he’d just vanished.

      This couldn’t be real. I’d just ordered a ghost out of my bedroom. I pulled my hair. Ouch. I was awake. And even though I had vivid dreams, I doubted if they included the scent of cinnamon and limes that lingered in the room.

      I shook off my unease and threw on jeans and a pink tee, then shrugged into a pink and black plaid jacket and headed out to wait for Marcy. Wonder of wonders, she was ready.

      We walked out, Liam at our side. When we got in the car, he balked. Unobtrusively as possible, I motioned for him to get in. He shook his head. As Marcy started the engine, I opened the door. “Just a minute. I forgot my debit card.”

      “Okay.” She leaned forward and fiddled with the radio.

      I jumped out of the car and jerked my head in the direction of the sidewalk. Liam followed me as I trotted back into the house.

      “Where’s the buggy?” he demanded, his arms crossed, chin jutted.

      I desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, to confirm I wasn’t hallucinating. Instead, I said as calmly as I could, “We don’t ride in buggies. We drive automobiles. Come on. It’ll be fun. You’re a guy. You’ll like it once you get used to it.”

      I was trying to talk a ghost into a car. What was wrong with this picture? I gave myself a mental head slap. On the other hand, on the off chance I was hallucinating, I might as well go ahead and enjoy myself.

      “All right, all right,” he grumbled as we walked to the convertible. I got in the passenger side and slid into soft leather. Feet planted on the driveway, Liam glared at me. I made a motioning gesture with my hand.

      “What are you doing?” Marcy twisted toward me, a puzzled frown on her face.

      “Fanning myself. It’s not nearly as cool as you said it was.” I flapped my hand back and forth in front of my face.

      “You’re acting strange tonight,” Marcy remarked as she fastened her seat belt.

      “I don’t know what you mean.”

      “For one thing, the way you’ve been flapping your arms around like a deranged chicken. Never mind. Clayton has that effect.”

      Liam hadn’t moved. I twitched my head to the left. Finally, he shrugged, put his hand on the side of the car, and leaped into the back seat of the convertible.

      Marcy barreled out of the drive and tore down the lane.

      “Holy Mary, Mother of God.” The words were a whisper on the wind.

      I squelched a giggle, and Marcy threw me a perplexed look.

      When her attention turned back to the road, I threw a quick glance at Liam. His jaw was clenched, and his fingers dug into the leather upholstery. He looked white as a ghost. The mental analogy hit me and I laughed.

      “Did you break into Daddy’s liquor cabinet?” Marcy demanded. She cut me a look before she turned her attention back to traffic. A jeep drew alongside. The good-looking guy in the passenger seat winked at Marcy before the sport utility vehicle zipped around and cut in front of her. For a moment, she lost her train of thought, but not for long. “Well?”

      “Well what?”

      “Did you bribe Lulu to bring you a bottle of Daddy’s finest?”

      “No! I haven’t touched a drop. I haven’t broken into Uncle Leon’s liquor cabinet. And I haven’t coerced Lulu to do so either.” I huffed and flopped back against the seat.

      Lulu was my aunt and uncle’s long suffering, but well-paid, housekeeper who now had the extra duty of cleaning up after us. Marcy’s parents had allowed us to move into their guesthouse until college started in the fall. No way would I screw up that arrangement by taking further advantage of their generosity.

      “Hope you haven’t been smoking anything. Mommy and Daddy would have a cow.” Marcy pulled up to the stoplight and waited for the light to turn green.

      “You know I never use drugs You’ve said yourself I’m so straight arrow I’m boring.”

      “No, what I said was it wouldn’t hurt you to loosen up occasionally.”

      Heat burned my cheeks. No way was I discussing this in front of a ghostly stranger. I lapsed into silence before pulling my compact out of my purse and angling it where I could see Liam. Our eyes met. A sizzle of attraction jolted me right down to my sandal-shod toes.

      I leaned my head against the headrest and closed my eyes, breaking contact. The whole situation was bizarre. My cousin had bought a ghost off eBay, and I was attracted to him. Whether he was real or a figment of my imagination, I was drawn to him.

      Then again, what red-blooded girl wouldn’t be? Even one who up to this point hadn’t been tempted to do the mattress-mambo with any guy.

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