WILD MEN OF ALASKA

chapter TWELVE

“Are you really going out with him?”

Gemma jumped, and the pile of sci-fi books in her arms scattered to the floor. She glanced around, even though she knew there was no one else in the store but her. Everyone had headed home for the night since the bookstore was currently closed. She should have done the same, but had prolonged her workday not wanting to face her empty house. Not with sleep beckoning and her seducer waiting for her to fall asleep. Was he tied to her or the house?

“I’m tied to you, and going out with that other guy will really complicate things,” Lucky’s voice rumbled over her.

“And you don’t think my life isn’t complicated already?” She was talking to dead guy. Basically a ghost, and since he’d shown up here didn’t that mean he was haunting her?

“I’m not a ghost, and I’m not haunting you.”

Holy balls, she forgot about that mind reading trick of his. “You have to stop doing that.” It was bad enough he knew so much about her, she didn’t want him inside her confused, messed up mind too. What woman would like the man she was attracted to knowing her every thought?

“I love how you think. You’re refreshing and honest. Your thoughts are as beautiful as you are.”

The man could seduce merely with words.

He gave a chuckle that did crazy things to her insides. “You should see what I can do with my—”

“Okay, stop.” She threw her hands up.

“You say stop, but what you’d really like is for me to—”

“No more reading my mind.”

“It’s hard not to when you project so easily. You have such charming thoughts, Gemma.”

Project? Did she have a part in this?

“You’re like a beacon in a storm. A hot, fervent place promising shelter where I want to—”

“Beacon or not, I don’t want you in my head.” It was tough enough being alone with her own thoughts.

“I can’t promise. I’m not the most disciplined.”

That, she believed.

Gemma bent to retrieve the books she’d dropped and found them missing. She swiveled and discovered the books stacked on the shelf where she’d meant to display them. “Did you do that?”

“It was my fault for scaring you. Helping you clean up is the least I could do.”

Yeah, but unnerving as hell. She shook off the shiver. She hadn’t even seen the books move. Explained how he could so easily get her undressed.

“Definitely a perk.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry. I can’t help it. Just like I can’t help this.”

He tucked strains of hair behind her ear that had fallen out of her clip, and she swore he nuzzled the side of her neck.

Her heart skipped. Now don’t get excited, she tried to chide herself. She was supposed to be downplaying her attraction to Lucky not building on it. After all, there was only so far this—whatever it was—could go.

A wave of sadness enveloped her, and she suddenly felt lonely. She’d never been one to feel alone. It was more than melancholy she felt. It was desolate isolation with the promise of eternity. Could she be picking up on Lucky’s feelings?

“Now that is interesting,” Lucky murmured. “I’m not up on all the rules. Rules have never been my thing.” She imagined him shrugging. “But somehow I must be transferring my feelings to you.”

Her knees wobbled. She might need to sit down for this. Instead of falling into a horizontal position that her body so badly craved, she returned to the customer service desk for the other stack of books awaiting her attention. She felt him shadow her. What she wouldn’t give to see him. There was another wave of understanding that she interpreted as him wanting the same thing.

She grabbed a pile of “Hot New Romances” and carried them to the endcap in the romance section. She placed the books in the already set up Plexiglas holders and then looked them over to make sure the display seemed balanced. She turned to get the next pile of books to fill in and found them floating in the air.

She froze.

“Did I freak you out again?” Lucky asked, the stack of books lifting as though he were offering them to her. “I’d just like to help.”

“Don’t move,” she whispered. With him holding the books, she knew exactly where he was. What if she put something on him? “Seriously, stay right here and don’t move.” One last look to make sure the books were still suspended in mid-air, she ran for the café and grabbed one of the clean aprons Amie had hanging in the kitchen. She rushed back to find the books floating where she’d left them with Lucky presumably still holding them.

“What are you doing with the apron?” There was a distinct frown in his voice.

“I want you to wear it.”

“Not very manly. How about you wear the apron and nothing under it?” Though she couldn’t see his eyebrows waggling, she’d bet good money by his tone they were.

“You’re such a man.”

“Thank you.”

“Now put on the apron.”

“If I have to wear that thing, the least you can do is put it on me yourself.”

The challenge lay between them. A challenge she didn’t have any problem accepting.

“Divide the books in both hands,” she ordered, fascinated as the stack of six books suddenly became a pair of three, each held about four feet apart. She reached up and felt solid shoulders under her hands.

Lucky moaned. “Your hands are so warm.”

“Shh.” If he kept talking like that her willpower would dissolve like sugar in a sea of water. The books moved closer to her as though he intended to hold her. “Nuh-uh. Keep the books in your hands. And no dropping them. Enough merchandise has been bruised tonight already.”

She looped the apron over his head a little astonished when it stayed. Next, she stepped closer and brought the ties around to knot behind his back. If she closed her eyes, it was like wrapping her arms around a flesh and blood man.

He was here. He was real.

Yet, he wasn’t.

Lucky groaned as though in pain. “Do you have any idea how good you smell and how badly I want to hold you?”

“Stop that,” she said, though her voice held no conviction. She swallowed hard and stepped back. In front of her was a floating dark green apron with hovering romance novels on each side. She shook her head. “Stay put. I have another idea.”

She ran to the office, hurrying back with her wool scarf and knit hat.

“Purple really isn’t my color,” Lucky said. “Besides, the scarf will clash with the hunter green of my apron.”

She giggled, surprising herself with how much fun she was having. She reached up and with one hand felt for the top of his head, her fingers diving into thick, soft hair. It was her turn to groan. By her calculations, his hair was just shy of shoulder length, wavy and soft as goose down.

“Gemma.” He moaned her name, the books inching closer to her in her peripheral vision.

She shushed him again. When they’d had these stolen moments before she wasn’t fully awake and always came away wondering how much of what she remembered had really happened and what was just a dream. But she was awake, aware, and more involved than she wanted to admit.

“Close your eyes,” Lucky whispered.

“No.” She gasped. The desire to close her eyes was unbearably hard to refuse. If she did that she’d be lost again. And she badly wanted to give in. So she didn’t. She grabbed the hat and placed it on his head, next she wrapped the scarf around his neck. She stepped back to view her handiwork.

He looked a bit like a scarecrow.

“There is nothing sexy about a scarecrow.”

“I don’t know. The scarecrow was always my favorite character in The Wizard of Oz.”

“Well, I am brainless with desire.” The humor in his voice was back and made her smile. She realized how much she’d laughed tonight. What fun they would’ve had together if he’d lived.

“Aren’t we having fun now? Can you only enjoy things when you’re alive? I’m proof that isn’t true.”

She sobered as the improbability of their situation cleared all the laughter out of her.

Her heart was in danger.

“Gemma—”

“I know.” She shook it off. Tonight. She’d steal tonight for herself. “Do you like to dance?”

“I’m a fan of anything that gets my body flush against yours.”

And just like that her despondence was gone as laughter bubbled to the surface. “Hang tight. I’ll be right back.” Once again she returned to the office, picked out her favorite music to play, and lowered the lights in the store, flipping the switch for the mural on the ceiling. Before her dad had died, he’d installed lights that resembled the constellations. Gemini being the brightest. It had been too long since she’d lit them up.

She walked out of the office into a magical land of light and color. The plate glass windows at the front of the store reflected the greens, reds, and purples of the Northern Lights, while her ceiling sparkled with stars and the fluid streams of the Milky Way. She found Lucky, having placed the books she’d been making him hold, onto the display. He’d even moved the books around so that the colors on the covers popped and balanced the promo. There wasn’t anything about what he’d done that she’d change.

He seemed to get her in a way that no man had before. As though he could see into her soul.

He turned as she approached and for a moment she thought she saw more than an apron, hat and scarf. He seemed more outlined in the dim light. If she squinted, she thought she could see details of his frame.

The hat cocked to the side. “Fleetwood Mac?”

“I’m a hippie child. Some things you don’t outgrow.”

“I’m a big fan of Stevie Nicks and of the hippie lifestyle.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

She felt the touch of his hand on her check. “One thing you can rely on with me, Gemma, I will never lie to you.” She felt his other hand on her waist, just above her hip. “Dance with me.”

She slid into his arms as though she’d always belonged. His hips brushed hers, as they moved into a rhythm as natural as breathing. He led her across the book floor under the twinkling lights of the constellations as the smoky voice of Stevie Nicks sang “If Anyone Falls in Love.” It was like they danced on clouds as each step fell into step with each other. He twirled her around the bookcases, from romance to mystery to sci-fi, they glided.

The song changed to the slower ballad “Silver Springs,” and Lucky wrapped both of his arms around her, pulling her in close to his body. She sighed, resting her head on his invisible shoulder. This felt so perfect, yet made no sense.

“Babe, just live in the moment.”

His bedroom voice rumbled under her ear, and the scent of fresh mountain air twined around her. She didn’t even mind his use of “babe” as she had the other night. This time her insides melted with the endearment. His hands caressed up and down her back, as his hips brushed tantalizingly against hers.

He slowed their movements until they were basically standing in place, holding each other and swaying to the music.

“My mother read your Tarot cards today.”

“I know. I was there. I couldn’t communicate due to the storm, but I heard every word.”

“How close did the reading come?”

“Damn freaky. Your mother is one woman who is tuned into the Universe.”

“How much do you believe?”

“Just the fact that I’m here with you now has me believing everything.”

“What’s the time limit that the cards spoke of? And the choices you must make?”

“The Northern Lights dictate the time I can be with you. Once they settle back down to normal, I won’t be able to return to this plane. Unless....”

“Unless what?”

“I must choose to stay or to move on.”

“If you choose to stay how would that work?”

“Much like a spirit who is tied to his life.”

“And if you move on?”

There was a long pause as he slowly turned her in a small circle. “There is no place that I would rather be than in your arms.”

“We are talking Heaven here, right? You want to give up Heaven to be with me?”

“Gemma, when I’m with you I feel more alive than I did when I was alive.”

“But you climbed mountains, lived on the edge. How does being with me, like this, compare to all that you have done before?”

“Don’t you realize that love is the biggest adventure of all?”

Did that mean he loved her?

“Yes.”

“You’re supposed to stay out of my head.”

“That is too important of a question not to hear...or answer.”

She stopped swaying and stood still within his arms. “What do you see as a future for us?”

“I don’t know.” His arms tightened around her as though he was afraid she’d break their embrace. “All I know is that love is the most important thing out there. Love traverses life and death. Close your eyes, Gemma. Let me show you.”

Part of her wanted to do exactly that. Close her eyes and be lost in the fantasy of this man. But wouldn’t that be opening herself for heartache to come? Of course it would.

“Gemma?”

“I need some time to think.” This was not the ideal relationship. What kind of future would they have together? Her always alone except for her “imaginary” friend. While she believed he was real, others would not. They might do to her what they’d done to her mother and commit her to the mental ward of the hospital.

“Gemma?” Lucky prompted again. “You aren’t crazy. I’m real, just physically impaired. We were meant to be together.”

Meant to be or not, what about children? She wanted them. Had always dreamt of a big family. She’d been an only child. Children needed siblings to play with, plot with, and help care for their parents. She wanted at least four kids. And no way could a dead man get her pregnant. That she was pretty damn positive about.

“We can figure this out. Together.”

But the deeper her heart was involved with Lucky, the harder it would be to let him go.

Under her hands she felt taut muscles, and smooth flesh dusted with fine hair. What she wouldn’t give to actually see him. Her eyes slid shut and there he was in her mind. The adventurous man from Tern’s picture. Real, vibrant, and so alive. She pressed her body harder against his and glorified in the moan of pain and pleasure that seemed torn from him.

“I’ve never had a woman affect me like this. Never felt desire so deep.”

Neither had she.

One of his thighs thrust between her legs, and it was her turn to moan as she made more room for him, straining against him. His hands cupped her behind and lifted her. Swinging her around, he pressed her against the bookcase of Divination and Prophecy. A few books hit the floor, and she didn’t care. All that occupied her mind and body was Lucky and how he coaxed the wicked little flame inside her into a greedy fire.

“Gemma, Gemma. I can’t get enough of you. I need you. To be part of you.”

She felt the release on the button of her slacks and the zipper slide down. Why, oh why hadn’t she worn a skirt today? Her clothing was too restrictive.

He gave a soft chuckle. “Oh, babe, you are the sweetest thing I’ve ever known.”

Her head started to buzz as everything inside her pooled into a wave of unquenchable thirst. He’d been stringing her along for weeks, with her waking just before diving over the edge into bliss.

But tonight she was awake.

She felt the bookshelves dig into her back, the tight band around her upper thighs as he held her still, positioning her perfectly for the rubbing of his engorged erection through the constraints of her clothing. The need to have him deep within her, now, caused her ears to ring.

The impatient peal of the phone rang throughout the store, clashing with Fleetwood Mac’s “Rhiannon.”

“Ignore it,” Lucky murmured, his tongue doing amazing things to her breasts. She hadn’t even realized he’d gotten her sweater off and the front closure of her bra undone.

“Please,” she whispered but didn’t know if the plea was for him to stop so she could silence the blasted phone or to keep going so she could finally climb that peak he’d been driving her toward since that first dream visit.

His rough hand cupped her breast, holding her prisoner as his tongue lavished her erect nipple. The phone went silent, and she gave a groan of relief that quickly turned to a sound of pleasure as he took her nipple into his mouth. Her inner muscles contracted as he sucked, nipped, and licked. She might be able to clamber over the crest just on the attention he showed her breasts.

But she wanted more. She wanted all.

The phone pealed again, seeming angrier than the last time if that were possible. Who was she kidding? She was having the most intense make out session with a corporeal impaired being. Of course phones could ring with emotion.

“Holy balls, you’ve got to be kidding,” she said. The damn thing was not going to shut up.

“I’ve never had a woman refer to my balls in a religious context before. I like it,” Lucky said, humor in his voice.

She choked on a laugh, but sobered when she opened her eyes and caught the definite outline of the man in front of her. Her breath caught. “Don’t move.”

“What’s wrong? Besides the phone.”

“I can almost see you,” she whispered.

“What?”

While his image wasn’t fleshed out, she could see where he was, like a mirage in a desert. He was there and yet he wasn’t.

The phone started up again. It obviously wasn’t a customer wanting a book put on hold. “I’d better get that.”

“I’m not letting you go.” Next thing she knew he’d carried her to the information desk in the middle of the store so that she could reach the phone. She didn’t take her eyes off Lucky, afraid if she did, his image would dissolve. Blindly, she reached behind her for the receiver.

“Chinook Books,” she answered breathlessly.

“Oh, thank goodness I reached you,” Rosie said. “Siri’s been arrested.”