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  From the Anthology Kissed From Beyond:

  ‘Til We Meet Again

  By Stacey Kennedy

  Copyright 2011 by Stacey Kennedy (Story from the anthology Kissed from Beyond)

  “‘Til We Meet Again” copyright 2011 by Stacey Kennedy

  Cover Artist: PJ Edwards

  Cover Art copyright 2011 PJ Edwards

  ISBN - 978-0-9865931-6-1

  ‘Till We Meet Again, are works of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher and individual author, except for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.

  Chapter One

  For so many years, isolated days and nights, Ethan had been stuck in purgatory. He’d been shuffled from home to home, living among people who were at first strangers, but became constant companions over time. For close to ten years now he’d called Twilight Antiques in Savannah, Georgia, his home.

  The shopkeeper, Mrs. Higgins, finished her Sunday morning routine of putting the new antiques out she obtained at auction. He’d never grown attached to her, because she had no connection to him. In her seventies, wrinkles canvassed her skin and Ethan had watched them grow deeper throughout the years. Beneath the sign of her age, soft pale blue eyes still held the beauty of a warm woman. Her silver hair, cut prim and proper, sat in tight curls atop her head, like women of her age nowadays. She might be elderly, however, she still took pride in her appearance.

  The antiques held monetary value. To Mrs. Higgins, they were much more than that—a piece of history to be cherished.

  Like him.

  Not an emotional attachment, a physical one. He couldn’t quite explain the reason his soul never crossed over after he died in the Civil War. Instead, he became bound to a chaise lounge he’d favored in the years he walked the earth. Without anyone to ask how or why, his life¯or death¯had become timeless.

  He’d grown bored of watching decades ago.

  The front door to the store chimed, drawing Ethan away from his thoughts as he lingered on the chaise. He sighed. Another customer to walk through the store and not give a second look at the chair he once loved, and still did.

  “Hello there,” Mrs. Higgins said, greeting the woman.

  “Hi,” a small, sweet voice responded in a tone Ethan found charming.

  In all his time at the shop, he’d yet to see anyone walk through those doors who caught his eye. On the rare occasions a younger woman came into the store, none though, appealed to him on a physical level.

  If he stood, he’d tower over her delicate frame. Her long, chocolate brown hair stood out against her pale skin, except for the pinkish tinge on her cheeks and baby blue eyes that held a note of sweetness.

  He might be a ghost, nevertheless, a man still resided in his soul, and she, a woman to behold. Her beauty mesmerized him.

  “How can I help you, my dear?” Mrs. Higgins asked in a rich southern accent.

  “Have you heard of the Landsby home?” the woman asked.

  Ethan could tell her heritage didn’t come from Savannah. She sounded American, yet not from around these parts.

  “Yes, dear, are you the new owner?”

  The woman shook her head. “No, Mrs. Nash is the owner. I’m the interior designer she hired.”

  “Oh, so you’re here to furnish the house?”

  The woman nodded. “I’m not from around here—”

  “Where are you from, dear?” Mrs. Higgins interrupted.

  “New York.” The woman smiled. “And the name is Cassandra Cole¯Cassie.”

  Ethan studied Cassie. All the dear comments seemed to displease her. What bothered her so? She fascinated him and he hadn’t been interested in anything or anyone for some time. How intriguing.

  “Well, Miss Cassie,” Mrs. Higgins went on. “What can I help you with today?”

  Cassie glanced around the store before meeting Mrs. Higgins gaze again. “Mrs. Nash decided the theme for the Landsby house should reflect its history. She wants to restore the home to its original condition.”

  “A wise decision,” Mrs. Higgins agreed.

  “So. . . .” Cassie looked around at the store. “I have some shopping to do.” She glanced back to Mrs. Higgins. “Do you have¯or know of¯a rental truck for hire to deliver what I purchase here today?”

  “Mr. Pitts does deliveries for me. I’ll call him now and see he comes by with the truck soon to help you.”

  Cassie smiled. “Thank you.”

  She strode around the store, looking at the items spread out, and Ethan stayed with her. In fact, he drew in close and stood mere inches from Cassie watching a deep shudder run through her. “You’ve got a draft in here,” she called out to Mrs. Higgins.

  Busy talking on the phone, Mrs. Higgins didn’t respond.

  Ethan leaned away from Cassie to let the warmth wash over her body again, yet continued to study her. She appeared so focused, so determined, and so adorable.

  His cold soul lit up with a heat he’d long yearned for.

  * * *

  A month passed since Cassie left her home in New York City to accept the job to build her design portfolio. A complete restoration of a Victorian home, not something she could’ve passed on. Besides, Mrs. Nash had offered her a ridiculous amount of money. Too many goods came from the job.

  She missed home, though. Staying in a house under renovations didn’t appeal to her, but the contractors she’d hired finished today and she’d have the peace she sought. The physical renovations she could do without. Walls re-plastered, paint applied, all the wood in the home, including the hardwood floors, refinished. Now, onto the part she lived for, the reason she got into interior design. Giving a home personality with furniture and accents gave her a high like nothing else.

  Mrs. Higgins seemed sweet enough, but if she called her dear once more, she’d blow a gasket. Such endearments weren’t for her. Granted, she looked younger than her twenty-five years, calling her such things though made her feel like a child. She’d worked hard to get here, put in long hours to prove herself capable. Hell, she’d moved into the empty house to renovate it while Mrs. Nash stayed in South Carolina. Being treated like an equal was not something she wanted, but demanded.

  Mrs. Higgins, approached her. “Mr. Pitts will be along soon with the truck.”

  “Wonderful,” she said, happy she wouldn’t have to lug all the furniture to the house herself. She scanned the antique shop, pleased with what she saw. “You have some wonderful pieces here.” An aged distressed dresser caught her eye, perfect for the vintage theme.

  “Ahh, a beautiful piece I obtained not long ago,” Mrs. Higgins said. “Does the dresser interest you?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Mrs. Higgins spun on her heels. “I’ll grab a piece of paper and we’ll write down what you want so Mr. Pitts and his crew can load them up.” The woman hurried off and Cassie chuckled to herself. Clearly, the store made small sales and Mrs. Higgins’ eagerness to sell off some of the larger pieces showed in her fast pace. Moments later, the woman returned, clipboard in hand.

  Cassie strode around the store to find treasures of all kinds. Her imagination ran wild with the design. “I’ll take these two wing back chairs.” Not looking back at Mrs. Higgins, she heard the pen moving against the paper.

  “You do realize they don’t match?”

  “Victoria-themes don’t require matching furniture. In fact, the design works better if they don’t.�
�

  “If you say so, dear. I love the era, however, don’t know much about design,” Mrs. Higgins replied with a shake of her head.

  Cassie continued on, choosing items to fill the home. Tables, throws, a couch, pillows, any item she thought would add to the home’s beauty. Last week, she’d bought a four-poster bed from a furniture store on the other side of town. A near impossible find at an antique shop, along with the outrageous price. Sticking to a modern piece of furniture fit her budget. She needed a place to sleep while staying at the house, so finding a bed had been her top priority the moment she arrived.

  Not fifteen minutes later, Cassie stopped at a gorgeous chaise lounge. Fitted with crimson velvet, the fabric looked rich against the dark wood edging.

  “Ahh, a real treasure,” Mrs. Higgins admired.

  Cassie wanted to agree, although her mouth wouldn’t function. A cold wave washed over her, freezing her in place. Not a draft, but something made her stop.

  The piece of furniture held power, compelling her to purchase the chaise. The reaction stunned her. She’d never been fond of chaises. Fine for reading, nothing more. “Do you know the history of the chair?”

  “Oh, I’ve had it now for well over ten years.”

  Surprise widened Cassie’s eyes. The well-worn piece didn’t look at all comfortable. Why would she hold onto it for so long? “Why not get rid of it?”

  A slow smile spread across Mrs. Higgins’ face causing her wrinkles to hide her eyes. “All the pieces here have a history, my dear. To trash them, a grave travesty. I couldn’t throw away something once beloved.” She shook her head and clucked. “No, not an option to me.”

  Cassie glanced back to the chaise and approached it again. She trailed a hand down the wood lining the sides and the cold air swirled around her again. Yet, a warm glow touched her soul. A sign she’d discovered a real treasure, however the chair would be more of an accent piece than a focal point.

  She sat down on the uncomfortable lounge. The coldness in the air increased the longer she sat, still though, the warm glow of excitement stayed with her. In fact, it grew.

  Whether it suited the home or not, the piece belonged to her. Might be a strange choice, but Cassie didn’t doubt herself. Her instincts never failed her. Something special lived in the chaise even if she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  Chapter Two

  Ethan paced the bedroom back and forth, beyond frustrated. Yes, he had yearned for a home to belong to. In the past three days though, he’d grown fonder of Cassie than of the house itself.

  She’d become so captivated by her design, she hadn’t noticed his best efforts to show his presence. He never before cared whether the people around him remained ignorant to the fact their house was haunted. Now, he wanted Cassie to notice him— craved for her to acknowledge his existence.

  In the last few days, he’d turned the lights on and off while she read in his chaise, moved her glass while she ate dinner, and even banged his feet against the floor to gain her attention. Either she did her best to ignore him or continued to be oblivious.

  His patience had dimmed days ago.

  Ethan stood by the bathroom door, not moving until the shower turned off. He might be desperate, but he was not a pervert. Privacy wasn’t a luxury, but a given right.

  The bathroom door stood ajar. He cleared the doorway and froze mid-stride.

  He should turn away, leave Cassie alone. How could he, with the sight of this stunning woman before him? Her slender body was still wet from the water and her hair dripped down her pert breasts, making drops of water run down her creamy skin. How he yearned for his tongue to follow the path of those droplets as it danced along her flesh.

  Dear God, she had captivated him before he saw her naked. Now, he rejoiced in her beauty. She positioned herself on the edge of the tub and placed her foot onto the toilet seat, revealing the glistening of aroused sex. Her small hand circled her clitoris and her head fell back. Little moans echoed off the bathroom walls and if his cock could have hardened, it would have.

  Damn it all to hell, he’d never been so enthralled by any woman, not even in life. Watching her, he cursed his spectral existence and his inability to assist her in finding pleasure.

  His legs wobbled beneath him and he couldn’t stop from sinking to his knees. He lifted his gaze to her face as she dropped her head forward. With her mouth parted, her hand continued to swirl around her nub and her eyebrows drew together in focus.

  Ethan studied her. Her skin appeared so smooth and flawless; he couldn’t find a single freckle or dark hair on her body.

  He yearned to place his lips against her hot slick flesh and taste her. He’d never witnessed a woman giving herself pleasure, because he’d never been given the chance in life.

  Now that he had, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, and didn’t know where to look—the hand sweeping across her swollen flesh or the expression on her face?

  “Woman, you’re remarkable.” Ethan’s spoke through gritted teeth. “Look at you, bringing yourself to climax.” His gaze stayed trained on her hand as she rubbed faster and her moans deepened.

  She raised her other hand to her breast and pinched her nipple. The color of her face deepened to a darker shade and her breath came in near pants.

  He couldn’t take anymore. Crawling toward her, he knelt in front of her. He longed to smell her, have her arousal delighting his nostrils. His current predicament took that ability away.

  Cassie’s eyes snapped open and landed on his. Her stare stayed with his, even though her eyes were clouded by pleasure. By the Lord above, he’d swear she saw him. His intrigue made him unable to stay quiet. “Do you know I’m here?”

  She moaned.

  Clarification? Not enough for him. “Can you feel me here?”

  Her answering moan sent a wave of warmth over his cold form, yet she didn’t respond to him. Resolved to prove it true, he reached out and touched her leg. A shudder erupted through her, her eyes became hooded, and her breath hitched.

  The build up to her climax exploded and she quivered. If his cock had worked, he’d have climaxed right with her.

  Her trembling subsided and her breath whooshed from her lungs. She blinked, lowered her hand from her pussy and brought her foot down to the floor. Ethan waited for her to show a sign of acknowledgement.

  She rose to her feet and strolled through him. He felt as if he’d been brought to the edge of his own orgasm, only to be starved of it.

  * * *

  What in the world had gotten into her? Ever since she returned from the antique store, her libido had run wild. Am I going mad?

  Days and nights of weird happenings occurred around her¯lights turning off, objects moving, all sorts of strange goings-on. Almost like being watched. And the weirdest part? She didn’t mind. It didn’t seem like some creep stood outside her window, peering at her. More so, like eyes of lust caressing her body.

  Masturbation hadn’t been a daily event. As of late, her need increased. Still, she reminded herself, he lived in her imagination and she’d be better off not focusing on such silliness.

  Right then, her cell phone rang from the bedroom. She rushed from the bathroom, scooped up her cell phone on the bed and answered it on the fourth ring. “Hello.”

  “Well hello to you, too, stranger. Did the house eat you alive?” Her best friend, Stephanie Mayfield, laughed.

  “No smartass, it didn’t. You should see the house now, it looks amazing.” She understood Stephanie’s attempt to goad her, the house was falling to pieces the day she arrived. Now though, it looked fantastic.

  “So you’re almost done with the job?” Stephanie asked.

  Cassie glanced around the room, furnished with the antiques she purchased at the store. “It’s coming together. In a week or so, I’ll be done. Got the kitchen, bathroom and bedrooms finished¯just the little things left.”

  “Good.” Stephanie sounded relieved. “I’m bored and need you home.”

  “A
w, you’ve missed me?” Cassie said.

  Stephanie snorted. “You know I have.” Although closer than a sister, Stephanie wasn’t the type to get caught up in sentiments. “So, do you like it there in good ole’, Savannah?”

  Cassie pondered the thought, hesitant to take the conversation where it needed to go. She craved getting all these weird happenings off her chest, to confirm she hadn’t lost her mind. “I like it all right, but, listen, I have a question for you. Do you believe in ghosts?”

  Stephanie roared with laughter. “You did not just ask me that.”

  Annoyance ran through Cassie, she did her best to hide it though. Stephanie would use her irritation against her, play with it a while. “Oh hush, just answer the question.”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “Well. . . .” Cassie hesitated a moment knowing Stephanie would find amusement in her confession. “I think there might be a ghost in the house.”

  Silence came from the other end of the phone. After a long pause, Stephanie spoke up. “Are you serious?”

  “I know how crazy it sounds, but I think the house might be haunted. See, I went to the antique store here and bought furniture for the house. I brought it home and all sorts of weird shit began.”

  “Like what?” Stephanie whispered.

  “All the typical ghost things—”

  Stephanie interrupted her before she could finish. “You mean, moving things, footsteps and stuff?”

  “Yeah.”

  Silence hit the line again. Cassie waited for the bomb to drop. Soon her friend would laugh until she couldn’t breathe. It never came. Instead, she asked, “What else?”

  Pushing her embarrassment over her recent actions away, she blurted out. “I think the ghost is watching me, and I think it’s a he.”

  More silence followed before Stephanie whispered, “Why?”

  Cassie pondered how to answer her without looking like a complete nut-job. She decided she had no other choice than to let go of her worry. “Because I don’t mind him watching.”