Healing Wounds excerpt

Copyright © VANESSA
GILFOY, 2007
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's
Cave Publishing, Inc.

He locked the
window latch and
the thick muscles
of his back and
arms rippled. "Do
you want me to
check on you in a
few hours?"

"Yes," she
blurted. She
wanted to ask him
to stay the whole
night. His
rippling body,
nude in her bed,
would definitely
keep fear at bay.
If only she could
be so blunt, but
it would be
inappropriate and
wrong to ask.

With a nod, he
left as casually
as if they had
discussed what
she ate for
breakfast.

Alone. Goose
bumps crept over
her flesh.
Delores peeked
into the
bathroom. Only
steam moved
within it. Her
heartbeat slowed
a bit. There was
nothing wrong
with her home.
She stepped
inside and forced
her fists to
release the towel
around her. The
warm water of the
shower relaxed
some of the
tension from of
her muscles but
she washed
quickly.

Ghosts didn't
exist but her
imagination
obviously could
trick her senses.
Better to let her
thoughts stray to
bizarre
impossibilities
and musings in
the daytime when
she would use
them in her
stories.

She grabbed a
clean towel and
ran into the
bedroom to dry
there. Shivers
shook her fingers
as she unzipped
her bag and
pulled out a
comfy jersey and
long johns. They
weren't exactly
sexy but she
hadn't packed
anything sexy.
She thought about
sleeping nude but
she'd never been
able to sleep
that way.
Disappointed, she
tugged on the
warm cotton.

Her teeth
chattered even
after she climbed
under the covers.
The lights were
still on but if
she turned them
off something
could sneak up on
her. Bissette was
right. How could
she sleep here,
knowing the last
two owners had
died their first
night here?
Delores gripped
the blankets to
her chin and
watched the
bathroom door.

Time drifted and
suddenly, she
became aware of
someone in the
room with her. In
the darkness, she
couldn't make out
who it was. Why
were the lights
off? He drew
closer and she
jerked away.
Having misjudged
the width of the
bed, she fell to
the floor in a
tangle of
blankets that
seemed to
strangle her.

"Ms. Hunter," he
whispered and his
footsteps rounded
the bed.

Each
clickety-clack
sped her heart as
she struggled
free of the
blankets and
reached for the
bedside light. It
lit the room for
a brief instant
before it toppled
over and
shattered beside
her. Oh no.

"It's me, Morgan
Smith. You hired
me earlier this
evening."

Her eyes adjusted
and she could
make out his
form. His voice
sounded like
Morgan's but she
hadn't heard
enough of it to
really judge.

His shoes
crunched on the
broken porcelain
just before he
crouched close to
her and slipped
his arms beneath
her.
Effortlessly, he
lifted her and
his musky cologne
wafted through
the cool air. His
hard body flexed
and relaxed with
each step and the
nearness of his
face heated hers.

She couldn't help
but slide her
arms around his
thick neck. Warm,
irresistible skin
against hers
nearly drew a
moan from her
lips. Her insides
melted into the
syrupy goodness
that slicked her
entrance. Before
she could press
her cheek to his,
he gently placed
her back on the
bed.

"I'll be right
back," he
whispered.

No. She needed
more. But his
footsteps drifted
into soft clicks
and the bedroom
door closed
behind him.

"Oh my God," she
breathed. "I'm
such an idiot."

Carefully, this
time, she turned
on the other
bedside light and
peered over the
side of the bed
at the mess she'd
made. She sat up
and glanced at
the clock.
Five-thirty
flashed in bright
green light. Her
feet fell to the
hardwood floor
and she gasped at
the harsh chill
that goose-bumped
her skin. Vanity
somehow pushed
her across the
room.

In front of the
mirror, she
checked for eye
boogers and drool
marks. No. She
looked fine,
except for the
mess of hair. She
ran her fingers
through it to
give it that
tousled,
I-just-got-up-and
-don't-I-look-gre
at look. At the
approach of his
footsteps,
Delores ran back
to bed and
quickly slipped
beneath the
covers.

Morgan appeared
in the doorway
with a broom and
dustpan. He
seemed surprised.
"I'm sorry. I
didn't mean to
wake you."

"No. I'm sorry. I
uh…" She laughed
at how stupidly
she'd reacted. "I
don't usually
wake up like
that. It's just
the history of
this place."

Morgan swept the
sharp shards into
a pile. "Why did
you buy it if it
scares you?"

Delores hoped she
wouldn't sound as
foolish as she
did to Bissette.
"I like it. It's
like a horror
movie."

"You like being
scared?"

"To a certain
extent. Fear
makes the best
dreams."

He turned to her
and his eyes
seemed to cut
holes into her
soul. "Do you
want me to scare
you?"

Breath halted in
her chest. "No. I
think this place
scares me
enough." She
didn't want to
know how he would
scare her.
Suspicion bubbled
up in her throat
as bile. She
couldn't help but
wonder why he'd
come so late at
night on her
first day here.
Why did he wait
six months to
cancel his former
employer's event?
"Did you ever
meet the other
two who died
here?"

"No." He brushed
the shards into
the dustpan and
dumped them in
the garbage. "You
should be careful
walking here with
bare feet. There
might be some
pieces I didn't
find."

"Why didn't you
try to cancel the
event earlier?"
Her heart raced
as she asked the
question and she
wished she hadn't
from the still
expression on his
face.

"I thought you
said you don't
want me to scare
you."

His reply numbed
her face and
squeezed her
chest, despite
its intent. "I
don't."

He moved toward
the door that
divided their
rooms.

"Wait!" Delores
didn't want to be
alone. She'd
rather chance
Morgan.

He turned and
stared.

She wanted to ask
if he'd stay
until she fell
asleep but that
would sound
childish. Her
mind searched for
something to say
instead. Noticing
he was still
fully dressed,
she asked, "Don't
you sleep?"

"Yes," he replied
plainly and left.

Light peeked
through the tiny
keyhole of his
door. Oxidized
green, the
ancient bronze
plate bore no
scratches from a
clumsy key. Never
locked?

Curiosity calmed
the rhythm of her
heart and pulled
her out of bed.
She shouldn't. It
was wrong but she
couldn't resist.
She crept to the
Jack and Jill
door and dropped
to her knees to
peer inside. The
plain beige
comforter on his
bed hadn't been
turned down. She
craned her neck
to see a
different angle.
He stared back at
her, odd
expression on his
face.

Delores fell
back. Maybe he
didn't see. Maybe
he was just
looking at the
door. She rushed
back to bed and
hid under the
covers.

The door opened
and she closed
her eyes,
pretending to be
asleep.