Chapter Two

What is happening here?

Does she think she can just go out of the house at night?

That can’t be allowed

Her nights belong to me

There had been a major break today

She’d succumbed to my demands during the waking hours

It brought me such pleasure to watch her crumble to the floor

To see her eyes close, to hear her whispered “Yes, Sir” in response to my command

It means she’s close to being mine, totally

So many of my kind rushed into these things, scaring their chosen women

I know better, though

Women give more easily of themselves if one takes the time to seduce them

And now that she’s proven her worth, she is ready

 
Today would be the perfect time

She will call

And I will answer, in full form

I’ll make her my own, permanently

Maybe I shouldn’t wait

We should consummate things now

Tempest

There was no response from her.

Next to her, the cat hissed and ran from the room and she turned to watch it, frowning.

A ringing bell tore a scream from his throat as she focused her attention on the instrument in her hand.
 

This won’t do

You can’t ignore me!

You will be punished for this

Tonight, I will see to your discipline and you will never ignore me again

Tonight you will learn that your life belongs to me

* * * *

A “come as you are” type of place, huh? Tempest stood in front of Franco’s Grill, glancing at the pristine white façade. A simple menu board gave prices for the offered fare, which included pasta, seafood and po’boys. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of an oyster po’boy, stuffed full of the delicious seafood treat and dripping with wonderfully spicy rémoulade sauce.

The prices were moderate, but the front of the restaurant promised something special. She hoped she was dressed appropriately, wearing only jeans and a cotton blouse. Restaurants in the French Quarter varied from simple to extravagant. This one seemed middle of the road from its modest front.

But from the looks of the menu, Quinn had definitely made a good choice for their meeting. Her longtime friend had been thrilled to hear from her, but when Tempest had told her she needed information on ghosts, Quinn’s manner had turned serious. She’d suggested a dinner with her two lovers, Devlin St. Giles and Fletcher Covair, and Tempest had quickly agreed.

She knew Dev and Fletch were part of a group that hunted ghosts throughout the New Orleans area. Hopefully they could come by see if they thought her place was haunted. Thinking about the two men and Quinn produced a spurt of good-natured jealousy inside Tempest. She was happy her friend had found love with not just one, but two men. Tempest just wished she could find one for herself.

If Quinn could do that, why couldn’t Tempest find love with one man? That idea totally sucked. Maybe she needed to get out more often. One thing to support that fact was the idea this restaurant was mere blocks from her new home, and she’d never even known it was here. Yes, she definitely needed to get out more.

She stepped inside the door. Jazz music greeted her and she looked around the room. It was a bar. Her eyes widened as she searched for Quinn. Not seeing her friend, her brows furrowed. She was sure Quinn had said Franco’s Grill on

One more scan of the room didn’t pinpoint Quinn, but it definitely hit on the absolutely gorgeous man who was making his way toward her. He was tall, well over six feet, with dark hair and a grin that twinkled all the way up to his dark eyes.

When he reached her, he winked. “Tempest?”

“Yes?” Oh my—I should—I should say something. “Who are you?”

She groaned at her choice of greeting. It didn’t seem to bother him, though. He laughed softly and put his hand on her arm. The touch was light, but it made her body tingle with delight.

“I’m Franco LeBeau, your host. Quinn and the gang are upstairs, in the restaurant.”

“Oh, cool.” Stupid, Tempest, stupid! She was out of practice with the male sex if all she could think to say to this absolutely stunning man was cool. She should have said, “Nice to meet you,” or “How did you know I was Tempest,” or better yet, “You’re absolutely gorgeous. Can I get an order of you to go?”

“Let me take you there.” He stepped behind her and put his hand on the small of her back. Her body pulsed in response to his touch as he steered her toward the circular stairway that set in the far corner.

They passed a stairway that ran against the wall and she glanced at it as they walked by.

“That one goes to the main room.” How had he known she was thinking about it? “The other one goes to a private room that I use for parties and such.”

“Sounds good,” she replied. Where was her brain? It obviously decided to take a dinner break the minute she’d seen this man walking toward her because it didn’t seem to be working anymore. She should have said, “How many people make up a special party? Two maybe, like you and me? If that’s the case, what’s on the menu? You? After a round of oysters, that is. Make that several rounds.”

Tempest flushed as they made their way up the stairs. She was hyper-aware of the fact he was behind her, watching as she climbed. She was also very conscious of the fact that her mind was thinking about having sex with this man. She envisioned herself bent over as he pounded into her, bringing her to orgasm, making her scream. The next scene showed her with her legs splayed wide, his head buried between them. Pleasure snaked through her as his tongue teased her clit.

Right when she was about to come, he stopped, standing to tower over her. He undressed slowly, revealing his gorgeous body inch by glorious inch. When he got to his pants, he undid the top button, sliding his hand down below the waistband of his jeans, much like a stripper would do, when it was obvious his hand had cupped his cock he said, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, oh good Lord above yes. Take me now and—”

“Temp!” Quinn’s greeting interrupted her fantasy. The newest WXBJ news anchor came running across the room, arms outstretched. She gathered Tempest in a bear hug. “It’s so wonderful to see you.”

Quinn had never looked so great, Tempest thought. Not only did she have two fantastic lovers, but she also had the job of her dreams as a news anchor. Originally, the station passed her over because her weight was “not up to camera standards.” But the woman they’d hired had been a disaster, and when she’d left the station, the producers finally offered Quinn the job, and the station ratings had soared. It seemed the public didn’t care that a woman who carried a few extra pounds delivered the news. The public loved Quinn.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Tempest said as Quinn released her hold. She glanced at the table where five people now sat, watching them. “Wow. It looks like we are having a party.”

“Just a few friends,” Quinn responded as she took her by the arm and led her toward the table. “You remember my darlings, Dev and Fletch?”

“Of course. Hello.” Both men stood and inclined their heads slightly, Dev giving her a wink.

“This is Martin Vandreen.” Quinn indicated a man sitting in between a man and a woman. “He’s our group medium. Well, one of them. Sitting with him are Rumer Rousseau and Noah Hopper, his significant others.”

“Nice to meet you.” Tempest nodded slowly, wondering if being part of a threesome was a prerequisite for membership in their ghost society.

“And you’ve already met Franco. Be careful around him. He reads minds.”

Tempest’s eyes flew wide open at Quinn’s words and she turned to the man who’d just escorted her to the room. The look on his face told her he’d known everything she’d fantasized as she’d climbed up the stairs before him.

His tongue moved out of his mouth slowly, wetting his lips, and she thought she might die of embarrassment. She didn’t have to read his mind to know what he was thinking about doing with that pink appendage. Her clit tightened in need and Tempest wanted to turn and run. Before she could act, though, someone else broke the silence.

“Come and have a seat,” Dev said, waving at them. “We’ll order, and while we wait for food, we’ll talk.”

Tempest glanced around the table. She knew Quinn and her lovers, but she didn’t know the others. Trying to get her point across to them without being graphic would be hard to do. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. But she wouldn’t tell them that just yet. She’d have dinner first then chicken out afterward, telling them her fears were nothing more than graphic dreams brought about by the fact she hadn’t had sex in forever.

Of course, saying that would be embarrassing, too—especially with the Franco in the room.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about it being just dreams.” Franco’s voice sounded right next to her ear and she shivered as his breath caressed her. “If you like, I’ll tell them what’s happening.”

Tempest stared after Quinn, who was walking toward a seat at the table. She wanted to yell at her friend that she was leaving now, that she’d changed her mind. How was it that this man was able to probe into her mind and basically read what had happened in the last seven days? That, added on top of the fact she’d mentally undressed him the moment they met, was embarrassment enough to last the rest of her life.

“I thought it was a quite pleasant experience,” he said, keeping his voice low. “And I’d like to finish the stripper part of your thoughts when we’re alone.”

“Don’t get any ideas, buster.” She frowned at him.

“I’ll let you get them for us, and will be more than happy to bring them to life with you.” He held out a chair.

She sat down, fighting back a smile. He definitely was charming. Still, she had the feeling she shouldn’t be here. What would these people think when she started telling them about erotic dreams? They’d probably tell her to go get a life, that there was nothing supernatural about it.

“Don’t discount the dreams, or yourself,” Franco said. “We’re not here to judge you. Remember that.”

That doesn’t make me any less nervous. She opened her mouth to repeat the phrase, then realized she didn’t have to. He knew exactly what she was thinking. This could turn out to be most inconvenient.

“Sorry.” He waved his hand and a server approached the table. “I’ll try to keep it toned down, just for you. Well, after this, that is.”

He turned to the server. “She’ll have a mint julep and an oyster po’boy, fully dressed, heavy on the sauce. And I’ll have the same.”

Tempest watched the server make the rounds. Tendrils of jazz music drifted up from downstairs, lulling her into a sense of relaxation. This won’t be so hard, she thought. Treat it like a story, even though you were a producer instead of a reporter. You still know how to keep people’s interests. Just don’t think about the fact that you’re talking about yourself, and a phantom, having sex. Hopefully, they won’t think you’ve gone over the deep end.