Angela Campbell - Spirited Away

Then the door opened, and she wished she’d had something stronger than three espressos.

Noah stared back at her from beneath hooded eyes, and he was dressed… well, actually, he wasn’t dressed. That was the problem. Her gaze immediately fell to his naked chest and lower, to the towel draped below his glistening rock-hard abs, to the trail of hair that led down. Eyes up, girlfriend! Jerking her head up, she focused on his face. The hair on his head hung in wet curls around his perfectly chiseled features, and he had the clearest, most enticing green eyes she’d ever seen.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she squeaked. Tightening her grip on the shoulder strap again, she cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time. I can come back later.”

The little courage she’d mustered vanished at the sight of his half-naked body. She turned to make a run for it, but his strong grip on her arm prevented her from getting very far.

“Give me a minute to pull on some clothes.”

“I can come back later,” she said again.

“No need.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “Do you want to wait here, or would you rather come inside?”

She steeled her spine and walked past him into the foyer, glancing around to keep from looking at his sculpted body. And it was fine, too. She half tripped on his hallway rug and tried to pretend that she’d meant to lean into the staircase rather than using it to catch herself.

“Make yourself at home,” he told her.

His heavy footsteps climbing the old staircase signaled it was safe to untangle herself from the railing, and she sank into the comfy-looking chair inside the doorway to the living room. Peeling, faded wallpaper decorated the walls, but the oatmeal-coloured carpet seemed new and most of the furniture, too. The floor above her head creaked with movement, conjuring images of her hottie neighbour stripping the towel away and—

Shaking herself, she reached for her bag and pulled out some of the pages she’d printed before coming over. She spread them on the coffee table in front of her and waited, wondering how best to start the conversation.

Hi Noah, I think your house is seriously haunted and you should probably move.

That would likely get her tossed out faster than reminding him that she’d called the cops on him yesterday.

Right. New plan. Blowing out a breath, she considered what to say as his footsteps grew louder and evaporated all cohesive thoughts in her brain.

Noah’s voice was strong as he spoke from the middle of the stairs. “I’m surprised to see you.”

Moving to her feet, she turned and managed a smile. Not only was he barefoot with his wet hair still curling around his face, but he was also wearing a pair of snug jeans and had left a dark shirt hanging open over his muscular chest. A very nice, smooth muscular chest. The kind you usually saw on underwear models.

Down girl.

“I’m kind of surprised you let me in,” she countered.

He walked past, shot her a grin, and began buttoning up his shirt. Thank goodness. “I told you I wasn’t mad. What’s up?”

Following his lead, she sat down and began fiddling with the papers she’d laid out for him. “You’re gonna think I’m really strange when you hear what I have to say, but…” She chewed at her bottom lip and leaned forward. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.” He leaned forward too, so close the scent of soap teased her nostrils and threatened to scatter her thoughts again.

She pushed back, needing to clear herself of the distraction. “Have you … noticed anything odd about this house since you moved in?”

“Define odd.”

“Things moving on their own. Unnatural sounds or smells. Weird feelings you get in certain rooms. That kind of thing.”

Some of the twinkle dimmed in his eyes and his smile fell just enough to be noticeable. Ah ha! He had experienced weird stuff. Excitement sizzled through her veins, and she continued before he could answer.

“Have you seen anything, like a ghost? You have, haven’t you? I knew it!”

“Whoa. Hold on.” He shook his head. “I haven’t seen a ghost. I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“But—”

He held up his hand. “Maybe you should explain why you’re asking.”

Sucking in a deep breath, she tapped her finger on the stack of papers. “You should Google your house, man. It’s listed on a haunted places index, and you would not believe some of the messages people have posted on forums about it.”

His forehead crinkled as he considered the printouts. “You’re telling me this house is listed on a website, encouraging people to snoop around because they think it’s haunted?”

“Well … yeah.” Actually, she hadn’t thought about trespassers. “What did the realtor tell you when you bought the place?”

“I didn’t buy it.” Frowning, he picked up the paper sitting on top of the others. “I’m renting it, and the realtor didn’t say a damn thing about any of this.”

Oops.

“Have you caught anyone snooping around since you moved in?”

The dark circles under his eyes seemed more pronounced as he skimmed the story: the one about a group of teens who believed the house was haunted by two ghosts, one good, one evil, after their friend was thrown down the stairs during a ghost-hunting expedition. The front door had been locked, trapping them inside, until a gentle voice had whispered, “Hurry. The back door. It’s unlocked.”

A chill caused Spider to tremble, remembering the tale.

“No.” His voice was gruff now. “I’ve only been here a month. I don’t know, maybe it only happens around Hallowe’en.”

The calendar had just flipped over to April, so maybe he was right. “I’m sure people stay away if someone’s living here.”

His gaze lifted, amusement again in its depths. He set the papers back on the table. “So you think I’m haunted?”

It was an effort not to roll her eyes. She gestured upstairs. “The lady in your window, remember her? I saw her as clear as day, and ever since I saw her—”

Wait. She hadn’t meant to mention the strange things that had been happening to her since the night she’d glanced up and seen Miss Pretty Ghost in his window.

“What, Emma?”

He probably already thought she was cuckoo for cocoa puffs. Might as well tell him the rest. “First there were the sheets being ripped off me in bed. Then there was a weird message on my computer. The words help and danger kept scrolling across for absolutely no reason. No reason!” She sucked in a deep breath. “Last night, I ended up huddling with the boys in bed after—”

His brow lifted. “The boys?”

She flicked a dismissive hand. “The dogs and cat. Anyway, the TV in the living room kept turning off and on while I was trying to watch it, and after I changed into my jammies and went to bed—”

“Jammies?” He chuckled.

She ignored him. “A loud noise from the kitchen spooked the animals and then the bedroom door started opening and closing on its own, Noah. Opening. And closing. On. Its. Own! All of us were scared to death. It’s like the animals kept staring at something I couldn’t see and whining. I didn’t sleep a wink!”

She’d almost packed up her car and driven home, but she knew she’d be in for a round of twenty questions if she came dragging three animals into her house in the middle of the night. The only thing scarier than a ghost was her father intent on an inquisition.

The humour had fled Noah’s eyes, replaced by a brooding but otherwise unreadable expression. She pointed a finger at him. “You know what I’m talking about because a similar thing has happened to you, hasn’t it?”