Nothing but the Ghosts

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1

My business partner is kissing the back of my neck. Since we spent the night together, this isn’t much of a surprise. I’m curled next to Malcolm, his arm draped over my waist, his rich, nutmeg scent warming the air. I want to laugh at the audacity and joy of it all, but don’t dare make a sound, don’t dare move. His kiss is a soft, shivery thing. I don’t want him to stop. So I remain absolutely still as morning light filters through the drapes and bounces off dust motes in the air.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love this.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried.

But I am. This is new. Our business is still new, not quite a year old. Beneath the joy is a thin wire of dread that insists this happiness can’t last. We’ve made a huge mistake mixing business with pleasure, and once I confess what happened at Nigel and Sadie’s wedding reception last night, it will change everything; it will change us.

I will confess. I know I must. But not before coffee. No one should talk about business or pacts with (possibly) demonic entities before coffee.

Malcolm’s lips continue to explore the nape of my neck. I’m pretty sure he’s awake. True, he’s an expert kisser. Even so, no one has so much skill that they can execute what he’s currently doing while asleep.

I’ve vowed not to move, but my toes begin flirting with his. They find the sensitive arch of his foot, and I’m rewarded with his exhale against my neck.

“You awake?” he says, voice low and still warm with sleep.

“I’m guessing you are,” I say.

“How are you?”

The simple question betrays so much with its tone: Are you okay? Was last night okay? Did we make a mistake?

I’m sure there must be other doubts I’m missing, other things he’s feeling. I go with a single word reply.

“Good.”

“Hm. You were that last night, too, if I recall.”

Now I turn to face him. I’m rewarded with that sweet, dark-roast smile, his eyes, shining at the sight of me. I can’t help wondering: how did I get so lucky?

“I think I promised you some Kona blend,” I say.

“You did, and I plan to collect. But first, I think I need my morning kiss.”

Morning kiss. Evening kiss. It’s how we juggled being business partners and a couple, although that was before we moved the arrangement into my bedroom.

“Well, we turned the lights off after midnight.” I peer up at him, trying to school my face into absolute seriousness. “Technically, that’s morning, so we’ve already had our morning kiss.”

“Doesn’t count unless the sun’s up.” Malcolm tugs me closer, folds me into his arms.

It is, by far, the longest morning kiss on record.