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She had intended it as a teasing remark, but as she spoke she had a sudden vision of him stripping away the covers, of exposing her body to his view. To his touch.
That’s never going to happen, she reminded herself as she looked over at him and gave him a somewhat shaky smile. Her breath caught at the look on his face, and she suddenly suspected that the same thought had occurred to him. Then he turned away, moving back across the room to the open doors and looking out over the town, his back to her.
“I’ve been practicing, and it does seem to be getting easier.”
“Maybe you could practice with scent as well,” she suggested. “You could come down to the restaurant.”
He was free to move anywhere within the building, although he usually preferred to remain in the apartment.
“Although I would not suggest making yourself visible,” she added with a smile.
Then again, with the exception of her human chef, the rest of her staff would probably take it in stride. She had the uneasy feeling that her reluctance for him to make his presence known had less to do with how her staff would react than with her reluctance to answer any questions about him. She couldn’t help wondering what her best friend Wendy would have to say about the fact that she had essentially been living with Leo this entire time.
“I might do that,” he said thoughtfully.
She smiled at him, then sighed.
“Speaking of restaurants, I’d better go down and make sure everything is ready for tonight. Do you want me to put the television on?”
She’d been leaving it on while she was at work, not only as a source of entertainment, but as a way for him to catch up on the things that had changed since his time. He shook his head, a sudden grin lighting his face.
“It’s not necessary.”
The television clicked on and clicked through several channels before shutting off again.
“I have discovered how to operate the remote control.”
Another change. He’d always had some ability to manipulate objects, although like most ghosts it had been more likely to occur when he was under the sway of some strong emotion. This ability to manipulate everyday objects had gradually been growing stronger.
“What else have you been practicing?”
A book flew off the bookshelf and landed on the counter next to her, the pages flipping open.
“She walks in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies,” he said softly, reading the poem aloud, and she had the oddest urge to cry.
She couldn’t look at him, afraid of what she might see in his face. Afraid of what he might see in hers.
“I’m glad you’re finding ways to entertain yourself,” she said, pasting a big smile on her face as she hurried towards the door. “I’d better go or I’ll be late.”
He didn’t say anything else and she didn’t look back as she closed the door behind her and hurried down the stairs to the restaurant.
When Damian had converted the old Craftsman bungalow into a restaurant, he’d left most of the rooms intact, choosing to create a series of intimate dining spaces rather than one larger space, and she did a quick survey of each room. The tables were already set for dinner, crystal and silver sparkling on the pristine white linen tablecloths. The flowers in the discreet arrangements on each table were still fresh and the water clear. Excellent.
She headed towards the kitchen just as a stream of curses erupted. Damn. Jack was temperamental, which certainly wasnot uncommon when it came to chefs, but he was also talented enough that Damian was willing to overlook those bouts of temperament. Part of her job was to smooth over those times with the rest of the staff. Pasting a pleasant smile on her face, she hurried into the kitchen.
The air was filled with a tantalizing mixture of scents from the sauces that were simmering on the stove and the desserts that were cooling on the counter. Jack was fuming at Cody. Cody was the busboy and backup sous chef, a laconic brownie with a scruff of beard and long brown hair tucked up under a red cap.
“Not my fault, dude,” Cody said, holding up his hands in surrender.
Even though they were hundreds of miles from the coast, Cody was convinced he was destined to be a surfer one day.
“Is there a problem?” she asked calmly.
“The mangos are not ripe,” Jack snarled, although he did take a step away from Cody.
Cody looked at her and shrugged.
“I just brought ‘em in.”
