The Hidden

“That’s a relief. No, it’s not. I mean, do you all really believe in ghosts?” Scarlet asked, looking from one of them to the next. Her gaze stopped when she met Diego’s eyes.


“Yes,” he said flatly. “The thing is, I know you’re afraid of this ‘stalker.’ And he may be alive and someone we need to watch for carefully. But he also may be someone who—alive or dead—can help us.”

“You really are serious,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “And Adam—is this what he believes, too?”

“Adam created the Krewe precisely because he believes in possibilities exactly like this,” Meg said.

“So basically, you think I want to arm myself against a ghost?” Scarlet said.

“Uh-huh,” Meg said.

“Okay, I’ll take that under consideration,” Scarlet said. She smiled suddenly. “So...anyone up for something to drink?”

“I’m ready for bed, to tell you the truth,” Meg said, looking at Matt, who smiled and held out his hand to her.

“Same here,” Brett said. “Good night all.”

“We’ll make sure the alarm is set,” Matt said, turning with Meg to head back down the stairs.

Diego was left alone in the kitchen with Scarlet. She looked at him skeptically, and he wondered if he had suddenly grown horns.

“What we’re telling you is true,” he said quietly.

She stood and walked into the bedroom. He hesitated for a moment, then turned out the kitchen light, checked the living room to make sure everything was in order and followed her. Her lights were out, and she was already in bed. He wondered if she had crawled in fully dressed.

“I can take the couch, if you want,” he told her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.

“You’re upset.”

“Yep,” she said.

But as he waited in the doorway, she suddenly got out from under the covers.

She wasn’t fully dressed. In fact, she was totally naked.

The slight moon glow seeping in through the curtains highlighted the sleekness of her body like an opal mist. She walked over to the doorway and slipped an arm around his neck, then whispered huskily, “I hear that upset sex is incredibly hot.”

He smiled, then found her lips with his. He indulged in a slow, simmering, hungry kiss before lifting his mouth from hers.

“I feel so used,” he whispered.

“I’ll use you well,” she promised.

“Promises, promises,” he said.

He lifted her and the feel of her naked body against him fed the searing need that ripped through his body. He set her on the comforter and started to undress. Suddenly she was kneeling in front of him, pulling at the buckle of his belt. Her lips and tongue teased at the flesh of his belly, and he quickly stripped off the rest of his clothes and took her in his arms again, rolling with her onto the bed. She found her way on top and proceeded to kiss and tongue her way across his chest, then moved her way downward.

She suddenly sat bolt upright, grasping for the covers.

“What?” he demanded.

“Diego, ghosts—they don’t... Oh, my God! Are we being watched? By a ghost?”

His rigid body tightened a notch, yet somehow he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “From everything the others have told me, ghosts tend to be polite and discreet. They aren’t voyeurs out to make secret sex tapes.”

“Are you sure?” she demanded.

She was still straddling him, back erect, breasts firm, nipples aroused. She was like an Amazon warrior, proud and alert and ready to do battle.

“I’m positive.”

He sat up and pulled her back into his arms.

They could both be the aggressor in sex, and she’d been doing a magnificent job, but he wasn’t about to lose the moment.

He rolled her beneath him and caught her lips with his mouth, her hands with his, and he turned the tide, pressing kisses down her throat and her breasts, her abdomen and below, until she writhed and whispered his name.

And forgot about ghosts.

They made love until the wee hours.

Upset love proved to be incredibly hot indeed.

*