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He breathed?

“Wow,” he murmured. “That was interesting.”

“Interesting?” I was flushed and breathless and suddenly conscious that I was only wearing my father’s T-shirt, which hung mid-thigh.

“You like me,” he whispered.

Oh no!

I reddened, everywhere. “Well, you’re okay, for a g-ghost,” I stammered, staring down at my fingers.

Damn, his ability to read me!

“Look at me.”

I raised my head, and he was standing directly in front of me, too close—encroaching on my space, so much so that I took an involuntary step back.

“Do you have any idea how much I like you, especially in this moment? Even in that bloody awful T-shirt. You shine so brightly, Emily. Your hair is a wayward flame around you. I want to run my fingers through it—your big blue eyes, the smattering of freckles on your face. You’re so fucking beautiful.” His voice was low and serious, and he leaned in close. “And I know you don’t think that, but let me tell you: You. Are. Beautiful.”

My heart rate soared. Resurrected. His scent encircled us, delicious as ever, and his eyes burned the brightest green. I forgot to breathe.

“To my eternal regret, I can’t touch you.” He sighed and pulled away, leaving me reeling.

What? Beautiful. He likes me. Really likes me.

He sat down on the corner of my bed, rested his elbows on his knees, and gave me a wry grin. “It’s good to see some color in your cheeks for a change.” He smirked. “Most of the time you’re so pale.”

I pushed my hair back behind my ears and clasped my face while I tried to center myself and calm down.

What on earth just happened?

“Beauchamp, sit.” He patted the bed beside him. “Before you fall over.”

Blindly, I did as I was told and sat next to him.

“So, you like to listen to him play the guitar?” he asked, his tone casual.

“Um… yes.”

Tristan laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You, Emily Beauchamp.”

I frowned. Now he was laughing at me. This made no sense. We’d just had a moment—well, I thought we had—and then he changed the subject to Dylan?

Why?

“Is this about Dylan? The fact that he can play? I’ve not heard him before. He’s very good. Have you heard him?”

“Yes.”

“And?”