A Haunted Romance (18 page)

“You,” said Dalton. “I would have had her if it wasn’t for you.”

Trent shook his head. “Actually she pretty much figured it all out herself.” He turned to Chelsea. “I asked Minerva if she could take care of him if he came inside the house, and she said yes, so I went and circled around, just in case.”

“Thank you.” Chelsea dusted off her shirt and jeans. She hadn’t gotten any dirt on them, but where Dalton had grabbed her felt unclean anyway.

“Minerva,” said Dalton, not moving from the ground. “You two actually believe in her, even after all I told you. You’re crazy. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Trent chuckled at him. “I think it’s a very good thing you can’t step inside and say that.” He opened up his cell phone and called the police.

* * *

“Think they’ll hold him long?” asked Chelsea.

“Kinda doubt it. Our word against his, and he was smart enough not to leave fingerprints. But with the offer to buy his and your house expiring, he doesn’t have much motive.” Trent grinned. “Just in case, I’ll hang around you and protect you.”

Chelsea smiled back. “My knight in shining armor. You’d have to be with me almost all the time.”

“Yes.”

Was he offering to move in with her? To her surprise, she realized she was ready for that. He was handsome, considerate, handy around the house, and more than good enough in bed.

She walked into the dining room, lost in thought. The sketchbook was open on the table. What stared up at her was a line drawing of a naked reclining woman with a body like Marilyn Monroe, full of curves, and long curly hair.

It took her a moment to realize that it was her. She didn’t look anything like that, really, except for the hair and some features of the face. She looked closer. This woman didn’t have a thin waist or narrow hips, any more than she did. She just hadn’t noticed because of the eager look on her face, the fullness of her breasts, the way her lines curved out and in and out again.

Trent leaned behind her. “I think Minerva got curious. But I was going to show you anyway. What do you think?”

“Is that how you see me, really?”

“That’s how I remembered you when I went back the next day to draw. But I think my memory was pretty good. That’s how you are, Chelsea. You simply have no idea how beautiful you are.”

The page curved and rose, but Minerva had several pages at once and when she flipped them, there was only a blank page.

“Here, Minerva, let me.” Chelsea flipped back to the original page and then turned just one over.

It was her, again, this time in a dress that clung to her body, the dress blowing in the wind and hugging her curves. “Pretty dress; I don’t own one quite that clingy, though.”

“I could take you shopping,” replied Trent.

“Oh, brave man.”

Trent shrugged.

She turned the page.

It was her, again, sitting naked on the desk, legs spread. He’d captured the moment, down to the laptop shoved to the side. His own body was roughed in, just in position to preserve a little of her modesty, but he’d obviously spent far more time making sure he got each line of her face and body just right.

“I was wondering if I could get you to sit for me, Chelsea. I’d love to paint you.”

Chelsea nodded. “I think I could be persuaded.” If his painting made her feel half as beautiful as looking at his drawings did, it would be more than worth it.

“I’ll have to try to persuade you, then.” He bent down to kiss her, nibbling on her lips until they parted for him. His tongue snaked inside, sliding against hers. His hand slipped around her waist, pulling her close so she could feel the warmth and strength of him.

“Mind if I stay here tonight?” Trent asked her when their lips finally parted. He kissed her again, more briefly. “And the night after that?” Another kiss. “And so on?”

She never had been any good at serious moments. “I thought you just wanted me to sit for you.”

“That too. You, naked, with me. For hours. I just hope I can keep my mind on my painting.”

Chelsea grinned. “I might not be helping.”

“Why am I not surprised.”

He pulled a pencil out of his pocket and leaned over to the drawing, blocking her view with his body. He was fixing something about her hands. She supposed that was the sort of thing she’d have to put up with, dating an artist. She’d probably make mad dashes to scribble new bits of dialogue down that popped into her head, just like she always did when she was alone. They’d make allowances for each other.

When he moved back, she saw that he had drawn a few windings of rope around one wrist, with just enough rope leading away to imply her wrist had been tied to something out of the picture.

“Oh.” Her heart thumped.

“If you can’t behave while sitting for your picture, I’ll just have to tie you down.”

Chelsea grinned. “Promise? There’s no way I’m going to be able to sit still now.” She looked at the drawing and then back at him.

“Promise. I love you, Chelsea.”

She felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She buried her face against his shoulder, and he held her close. “I love you too, Trent. Yes, please, stay with me.”

The pad of paper floated into the air and then dropped once, making a soft
thud
.

Chelsea chuckled.
Glad you approve, Minerva.

Loose Id Titles by Sindra van Yssel

A Haunted Romance

Purple Passion

Secretary for Two

The Barbarian and the Witch

* * *

The BONDAGE RANCH Series

Roped In

Pushing Limits

Moving On

Sindra van Yssel

I live in Northern Virginia with my partner, my teenage son, and a lot of fish. For many years I was active in our local BDSM community. Yes, people really do the things people do in my books!

By day I work in a public library, where I get to meet all kinds of readers. I've a soft spot for happy endings and characters who learn more about themselves, but I enjoy torturing my characters along the way, too. Hopefully you'll enjoy watching them squirm as much as I do.