Prologue

Eve glanced into the mirror with a satisfied grin.

Not bad.

She took a step back and nodded in approval. Yes, she looked pretty hot tonight. She couldn’t help but laugh at the notion. She was hardly the type of woman who considered herself hot, even if her husband continually claimed she was.

The thought of Owen made her heart speed up.

This was all for him. The whole production of a sexy outfit, background music, and mood was to surprise him. There would be no time for dinner or late-night TV on this gloriously warm spring night. No, there would only be seduction and pleasure, with a lot of fun thrown in. Besides, if he got hungry, she’d prepared several small meals: strawberries with cream, strawberries dipped in chocolate, a few peaches. She’d even dared to stir a banana into the mix. Oh yeah, she was on a one-track mind-trip tonight. And it wasn’t even their anniversary.

Eve loved to celebrate their love every single day. She was as horny as hell tonight, too. No man had ever enticed or satisfied her the way her husband did. They connected on so many levels.

She narrowed her eyes, dabbed on a little more red lipstick and pouted. She’d only applied lipstick and black eyeliner, but she still looked good. Her dark blonde shoulder-length hair had a bit of curl in it and framed her thin face nicely. There was even a little body glitter on her chest and arms.

She was more than ready for him.

When Eve turned away from her reflection, her gaze paused on the alarm clock. He should’ve been home an hour ago. Walking over to the dresser, she picked up the phone and dialed his cell number. It went straight to voice mail.

Ignoring the small tug of dread that stirred inside her gut, she flattened out the crimson sheets. The bed was open and ready for business—not that she intended to only use the bedroom. There were plenty of other places around the apartment to have fun together.

She slowly wandered out into the living room and swayed her hips to the sultry music she had playing on the stereo. This would get anyone in the mood. Hell, where was he? She really needed to feel his touch on her body, his lips all over her skin. Desire was choking her, and she wanted release.

Her arms slowly wrapped around herself as a small breeze stirred around her. She spun around in a half-circle. There was no one there, but the candle flames on the dining table swayed a little. She was tempted to put them out but couldn’t bring herself to. They were part of the romantic mood.

It was probably just the warm wind coming in from the open window, anyway.

The sheer black lingerie didn’t feel as if it covered enough of her skin. She shivered when her breath misted in front of her.

A knock on the door roused her from her wild, confused thoughts.

She sighed. Why was she spooked? Owen was home now. Maybe he was in the mood for some role-playing, and that was why he’d knocked. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d played the handyman or plumber.

Eve giggled at the memory. Excitement coursed through her body, flooding it with unquenchable desire. The unease slipped from her as she released a steady breath.

She slowly headed towards the door in short, sexy paces. Her spiked heels pressed against the carpet. Owen was going to love this. Her fingers gripped the door handle as her other hand unlocked it.

When she pulled it inward and shouted, “Welcome to the home of pleasure!” Eve froze.

It wasn’t her husband at the door.

She quickly reached for one of the coats on the rack beside her and held it in front of her body. Everything she was wearing was see-through.

“Mrs. Tellman?”

She stared at one of the two police officers with wide eyes, her heart pounding. A mixture of emotions and dread raced through her system. She was embarrassed, scared and confused. Words failed to spill between her lips, so she nodded.

“We’re sorry to interrupt,” he continued, averting his eyes, “but we have some bad news.”

“Bad news?” she echoed his words in a raspy whisper.

The second policeman shuffled his feet, avoiding eye contact. She knew they weren’t here for a happy reason.

“I’m so sorry, there was an accident. Your husband, he was—”

The policeman’s voice faded. His mouth still moved, but she couldn’t hear a word of what he said. Eve already knew what he would say next.

Everything that could have fallen apart in her life just had. Owen was her everything. Not only were they happily married, but they were best friends and had so much fun together. He couldn’t be… gone. No, not Owen.

Tears refused to fall, but her wonderful and happy world came crashing down around her.

Every bit of heated desire she’d wanted to pursue slipped from her cold body. She fell back and wished she’d died with him.

Chapter One

“Two years, Eve—it’s been two years.”

“I know that—you don’t need to remind me. I know how long it’s been since my husband died.” The d-word always left a bad taste in her mouth. She couldn’t say it without feeling nauseous. Sometimes it still felt as if he’d been with her only the day before. She would catch his scent in the air around her, or she’d go for a walk and could swear she heard him call out her name. But Owen was never there.

He was gone.

She’d identified his cold, damaged shell, laid him to rest in a cemetery nearby, and had already dealt with the financial and legal side of things. She even laid fresh flowers at his gravesite almost every week. But the pain never went away. It still made her sick to the stomach. That horrid night, identifying him, the funeral—every single unpleasant memory seemed to surpass the good ones.

Some days were more bearable than others. Whenever she received mail addressed to him, Eve would feel as if she’d lost him all over again. Or if she thought of something that used to make them laugh, she’d get choked up.

She constantly wondered why that was. Maybe it was her penance, a way to make sure she never forgot him. Never let his memory slip from her mind. As long as the pain remained raw enough, she wouldn’t disregard him.

Eve gazed across the room and stared at the photo frames on the bookshelf. They were all of him. She’d taken down every single picture with both of them together and replaced them with his photos.

I can’t forget him. If she said it enough times, it would be real. Even if, though she hated to admit it, his face was starting to get hazy inside her mind. The reality of her dead husband’s memory was slowly slipping away, and the guilt felt like it was eating her up inside. A little more each day.

“I didn’t mean to upset you—”

Eve sighed and cut her friend off. “No, you just want me to forget about him, Syl.”

“Just because I want you to go to dinner with me and stop by a bar afterward, doesn’t mean I want you to forget about Owen,” her friend insisted. “I just want you to move on with your life. Live a little.”

“I need to go now—there’s someone at the door.”

“Eve, you can’t stay locked up in your apartment forever. You need to get out and breathe,” Syl continued. “I’m really worried about you.”

“I breathe just fine. I have to go now.”

“No, wait—”

She pulled the phone away from her ear, hit the disconnect button and threw it on the couch beside her.

Eve knew her friend was only trying to help, but she didn’t want any help. If she’d chosen to remain alone for the rest of her days, that was her business. No one else could understand the devastation she lived through every single day.

The fact she’d almost flirted with men on a few occasions, and had even come close to signing up at an online dating service, only made her feel worse. Sometimes she got so lonely, without someone to share all the fun and wonderful things she used to enjoy with Owen. No one could ever take his place, but sometimes she wondered if she would one day wake up and be ready. Was that how it worked?

A knock on the door made her jump.

Her breath caught in her throat.

How strange. She’d used it as an excuse to get off the phone, and now someone was at the door. The rush of nerves that never ceased to clench her stomach occurred again. Ever since that night, every time there was a knock, she freaked out.

Eve pressed a hand to her chest, stood up and headed towards it, slowly. She opened the door and came face to face with a handsome, tall man she recognized from somewhere in the building.

“Uh, hello, sorry to bother you, but I think this is yours.” He held out a white envelope.

She took it. “Thanks.”

The man looked at her and then looked away. He seemed to have something on his mind but refused to meet her eyes.

“I’ve noticed the postman sometimes puts things in the wrong letterboxes, but I’d never gotten one from another floor before.” He chuckled as he swayed awkwardly from one foot to the other. He was barefoot—long toes peeked out from beneath the jeans that covered most of his feet.

“Yeah,” she answered. Eve didn’t have time for chit-chat with a neighbor. Sure, he was cute, with his short brown hair and dark eyes, but she hardly ever noticed good looks anymore. She was surprised she’d even noticed that much on him now. She might only be in her mid-twenties, but her romantic life was over. She never wanted to be with another man again.

It wasn’t just the memory of her husband that kept her from committing. It was also the fear of losing someone she cared about all over again. The pain never went away. Though the need to be with someone sometimes overpowered everything else… and that was when she would almost succumb.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Thanks. I have to get back inside.”

“Yeah, of course. Ah, my name’s Mitch, and I live two floors up.” He held out his right hand.

“I’m Eve Tellman.” She shook his hand and was surprised at the gentleness with which he held her fingers. The shake seemed to go a few seconds longer than it should, and she quickly pulled her hand back from his. “See you.”

“Yeah.”

Eve closed the door and pressed her back against it. Her breath came in quick gasps, and her heart beat a little quicker. What the hell had just happened? This man wasn’t a total stranger—she’d noticed and greeted him quite a few times during the last few months—but why had he affected her now? She sighed, trying to calm her heart and catch her breath.

Her hand felt warm from his touch, and it sent a sizzle along her skin that travelled to places she’d put to sleep a while ago. She could feel the clench of desire stir within her again. What the hell was going on? Was she so lonely that a man at her door could set her on fire this easily? Well, if that was the case, she needed to stay away from him.

She turned the envelope over to check the address label.

Every bit of heat he’d temporarily ignited inside her cooled. Tears slid down her cheeks when she read whom the letter was addressed to: Owen Tellman.

* * * * *

“You idiot,” Mitch said to himself as he slammed his apartment door shut. Why had he frozen like that? He’d held onto that envelope for weeks, trying to summon the balls to casually waltz on down to her apartment to start a conversation with her. He eventually wanted to ask her out, but now he’d screwed up the opportunity.

Mitch cursed himself a few more times before he wandered into the bathroom. He paused to look at himself in the small mirror.

The man who stood behind him made him whirl around in a hurry. He gripped the sink to keep steady.

“Jesus!” Mitch gasped at the fact that he was still all alone. He slowly turned back toward the mirror and noticed the blond-haired man was still there, reflected inside. “Oh God, not again, tell me it’s not happening again.”

Help me! The words were crisp and loud inside his head.

Mitch knew what that meant.

This man, whoever he was, was a ghost. Another ghost who’d decided to haunt him until he agreed to do something for him. He was starting to feel like that chick on TV who always made him sniffle and switch off because he couldn’t take it anymore. Or maybe he was like the kid who could see dead people in that movie. Man, no, he was a combination of the two. He didn’t see dead people all over the place. No, he’d only ever met a select few in his life—but they always wanted something from him. And a few dead people were more than enough to deal with anyway.

It had been a while since he’d been bothered by anyone. He’d hoped it was over. Until now.

How shitty was this? Out of all the cool supernatural powers out there, he wound up with the ability to be a bitch for the dead. Some people were just born with bad luck.

“What the hell do you want?” he whispered into the mirror. His hands were still clenched around the edge of the sink when he met the dead man’s eyes.

Please, you have to help her.

“Help her... help whom, do what?” Why did they always have to talk in riddles? It wasn’t as if he needed a plotline for a show. If the dead guy wanted his help, why couldn’t he just say it?

The man’s face was grim, pale and completely bruised on one side. Some sort of head wound had made a nasty gash near his hairline. His hair was bloody. Mitch was glad he couldn’t see the rest of his body. This dude had obviously been in some sort of nasty accident.

I need you to help her love again, he finally answered. His lips moved in the mirror, but Mitch couldn’t hear the words with his ears. They always spoke telepathically to him.

“Man, I don’t know what you mean by that.” This was the first totally weird request he’d gotten. Not that there wasn’t something weird about dead people appearing in mirrors and other reflective surfaces. But usually they had a goal—tell her I loved her, tell him I’m okay, remind her about that bank account—that sort of thing.

The man sighed. He lifted both hands up behind Mitch’s head. He tensed his grip on the bathroom sink only seconds before the ghost pressed both palms to the sides of Mitch’s temples. A rush of happy, excited and terrifying images filled his mind.

This part never changed. He really hated this part.

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