Carla Kingston claimed to have been accosted by a ghost when she was seventeen years old. In confidence, she told her best friend, who dropped her like hot coals. Ten years later, Bobby Whitten returns with a change of heart, but can he handle watching her enjoy being made love to by a shadow of a person who was murdered more than a hundred years ago? [paranormal, erotica listing isn't accurate] More
“Maybe. Zack, I have a strange feel about what's to come.”
“I told you, it’s the two of you together that is stirring them up,” Zack told her.
“You’re being redundant.”
“Stop sucking face and things will quiet.”
“What?” Bobby asked.
“Zack says they’re jealous and trying to get my attention, so we need to stop sucking face.” His eyes narrowed, and she found it amusing to watch him look around the place. “He can’t see us.” She tapped the headset. “Hearing.”
“Oh,” he said before a grin crept across his face.
“Zack, while the troops feel they need to gather, I’m going in to do some fishing.”
“Not a good idea. Too many.”
“I’ll be fine. They love me, you said so yourself.”
“Right now, it may not be unanimous if you get my drift.”
“Yeah, I get it.” It would definitely be worth it if her infatuated ghost was jealous enough to take things to a new level.
“I think it’d be interesting to take Bobby in the house with you and see what happens.”
She laughed. “You’re ornery.”
“Well, go have fun. I’ve got your back.”
“Appreciated. Switching to wireless.” She set the headset down and turned it off. “Remember what I said. Don’t interfere,” she reminded Bobby while putting on a wireless headset and attached the battery pack to the back of her jeans.
“What’re you doing?”
“My job. You can watch and listen, but you won’t be able to talk to me. Nor will I be able to hear you.” Flipping on the speaker nestled between the monitors near a receiver, she informed him, “Only Zack will be able to talk to me.” Carla pulled a jacket on, grabbed her kit, put the file of photos in it and turned at the door. “I’ll be back,” she said in the gruffest tone she could manage. He didn’t smile. She walked up to him and kissed him. “Relax.”
Carla left and crossed the street to enter the property. Her heart pounded against her chest cavity. She latched the gate behind her, took out her handheld thermal meter along with the K2 meter, turned them on and went up the walk to the porch steps and up to the front door. She shivered when she entered a cold spot. “I’ve entered coldness, fifty-one degrees.”
“Daybreak temps been steady at fifty-seven.”
“No visuals, but you,” Bobby added.
She pulled the keys from her pocket. “Going in.”