JanesPrize by Margrett Dawson

“I’m assuming he is
a hunk.”
    Jane nodded. “You could say that.” She
caught a movement by the door of the coffee shop and stared, transfixed. Annice
turned to look at what had caught her attention. Pierce shouldered his way
through the customers and stood by the counter, scanning the tables.
    Annice turned back to Jane. “My oh my,” she
said. “Is that him?”
    Jane could only nod wordlessly as Pierce
caught her eye and began to stride toward their table. As he drew closer, she
had ample time to congratulate herself on the choice of clothes. His jeans
hugged his slim hips. His shirt clung to wide shoulders and tapered nicely to
his waist and the wide leather belt. He moved easily and purposefully, a
triumphant grin on his lips.
    “That,” Annice whispered, “is a hunk.”
     
    A half-hour later, Annice pushed her empty
cup away and stood. “So it’s settled. We’ll go out just before it gets dark.”
    Jane nodded weakly. She’d argued with her
friend but Annice had grown more pigheaded the more she heard why she shouldn’t
go.
    Pierce got to his feet. “We’ll pick you up
at nine,” he said. “It’s a beautiful house. You’ll like it.”
    “Just a quick visit to prove there’s no
such thing as a ghost.”
    Pierce nodded, his face serious. “You’re
right.”
    Annice swung her purse strap onto her
shoulder. “You guys,” she said. “If your video’s any good, you could sell it as
another Blair Witch Project . See you later.”
    Jane watched her leave. Pierce remained
standing.
    “I thought you were going to wait for me,”
she said.
    “I was bored and decided to try to find my
own way around. I did it!”
    “You sure did.”
    “Now can we go back to the motel?” he
asked, running one fingertip along her bare arm.
    Jane pushed back her chair, trying to ignore
the ripple of fire that snaked along her arm and right to her core. “We
shouldn’t be going back to the house.”
    “Hey, she would have argued all day if we’d
let her. I’ve got other things in mind for my time. Let’s go.” He took her hand
and led her out to the street.
    Jane unlocked the car. She should pinch
herself to make sure she was awake and not dreaming this fantasy. But the man
beside her was solid flesh, warm and very much alive. He wanted to take her
back to the motel and the bed that waited there because he wanted to make love
to her again. And she was following willingly, even eagerly.
     
    Pierce opened the door of the motel room,
his blood already pounding in his head and behind the solid zipper of these
newfangled pants she had found for him. He seized her in his arms, hearing her
little gasp, half pleasure, half surprise. Holding her tight against him he
kicked the door closed, narrowing his eyes in the dimness. The extraordinary
places he’d seen in the few hours since he’d been alive again were making his
head spin. There was so much to take in. He’d told her he was here for good and
that’s what he believed. But he couldn’t help wondering if it all could be
snatched away from him in the blink of an eye. He’d told the truth when he’d
said there were not many ghosts who were touched strongly enough that they came
back to the world.
    A transient ghost had once told him that
there had to be a bond between the rescuer and the phantom but he was hard
pressed to see what bond existed between him and Jane before she’d barreled
into him. Maybe it was something to do with a future link. That idea appealed.
    For sure there was a bond now. True, he’d
spent four decades without feeling a woman in his arms and he’d been hungry
with a raw, biting hunger. That first time they’d come together had been pure
carnal instinct and natural humanity but now it was more.
    He felt the length of her body against him
and kissed the top of her head. He loved the way she fit so neatly under his
chin. He loved the way the curve of her body pressed against his hardness.
“This is where you belong,” he